A Broken Spirit
by abbywesten
Summary: Shawn always seems so carefree, so cheerful. But after becoming the victim of a traumatic event, he has trouble moving on.  Henry and Gus hope they can bring back the Shawn they know and love. Angst and friendship/family - no slash.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've just recently discovered Psych (LOVE it), and this is my first go at writing it...I of course own nothing, it's all in good fun, I'm no sort of expert, etc. This is probably quite a bit more angsty than anything we'll ever see on the show, but I think there's far more to Shawn than just his goofy persona. Hopefully I'll be able to keep everyone in character. That's my goal, anyway, and I'd love some constructive feedback. Oh, and I see this as taking place sometime early in season 5. I hope you enjoy! -abby_

* * *

Henry Spencer had a bad feeling.

He'd woken up early as usual, with every intention of spending the day fishing alone. Ever since starting his new part-time consulting position at SBPD, his solitary fishing days were all the more enjoyable.

But today something was off. From the time his alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. to the time he grabbed his keys, Henry couldn't shake the ominous feeling that something was amiss, that something was about to go horribly wrong.

He checked his watch. 5:15 a.m.

Henry was no idiot. He knew very well that Shawn would be pissed if he called this early. The elder Spencer stood on his front porch for several minutes, debating whether or not he should pick up the phone and check on his son.

Finally he decided against it, convinced himself that it was nothing. _You just feel bad that he went slamming out of the house last night. Again. Jesus, Henry, when are you going to learn to back off the kid a little? You invite him over for dinner and then ream him out for...something. What was it this time? _Somewhat chagrined, Henry shook his head and headed for the truck with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Gus stirred uncomfortably, unsure of what had awakened him. _What time is it?_ he wondered, opening one eye to get a glimpse of the bedside clock. 5:15 a.m.

He groaned, stretching under the covers. _Lots to do today, _Gus reminded himself. _What's wrong with you? You've got another hour. Just go back to sleep until the alarm goes off._

But try as he might, he simply couldn't.

* * *

Shawn sat bolt upright with a start. He shuddered and pulled the comforter tighter around his shoulders as he squinted at the clock. 5:15 a.m.

_Huh_, he thought. _Weird. And way too early to get up. Only fishing freaks like Dad get up at this hour._ Shawn tossed and turned for several minutes before deciding that he was thirsty._That must be why I can't go back to sleep_. _I'll just get a drink of water then it'll be fine__._ Groggily, Shawn rolled out of bed and padded quietly out of his bedroom.

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head as he shuffled toward the kitchen. He was so familiar with the layout of his tiny apartment that he didn't bother to turn on the lights. Blinking sleepily in the dim illumination that moonlight provided, Shawn was suddenly stricken by the strong feeling that he was not alone.

_What the-_ there was no time to complete the thought as a thick rag was forced over Shawn's nose and mouth. Stunned, he tried to fight his unseen attacker but it was no use. Within seconds he succumbed to the effects of the drug. Shawn's knees buckled and he collapsed as unconsciousness claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts! As my NCIS readers are aware, I'm really quite awful about personally responding to reviews, but I want y'all to know that I do read and appreciate every single one. Standard disclaimers apply, I own nothing, I know nothing, I hope you enjoy this chapter! -abby_

* * *

As Shawn gradually came back to awareness, his first reaction was to panic. He struggled and kicked, trying to free his body, but his efforts proved futile. _What happened? Where am I? I can't breathe! I can't move! _

Rationally, Shawn knew that becoming hysterical wasn't going to help so with an effort, he forced himself to calm down. Taking deep, even breaths through his nose helped clear his mind and slowly he started to piece things together.

From the rough fabric touching his cheeks and the stale-smelling air each time he inhaled, Shawn quickly deduced that his head was covered with a bag. Not only that, but a blindfold seemed to be tied around his face. _Someone really doesn't want me to see._ From the way his lips were painfully sealed together, Shawn knew that his mouth was covered with duct tape. _They don't want me talking either._ Shawn wiggled his fingers experimentally and realized that his hands were tightly bound behind his back. A quick test confirmed what he already suspected – his ankles were also tied together. _Outstanding._

Suddenly Shawn realized that his dark world also seemed eerily silent. There was nothing. No voices, no footsteps, not a thing. Everything was muted, and he bit down on the resurfacing panic. _Why can't I hear?_ Straining to listen, desperate for confirmation that he had not somehow gone deaf, Shawn carefully lifted his head. It was then that he realized there was something stuffed inside both of his ears. _Ear plugs? What kind of kidnapper does that? _In spite of the bizarre situation, relief flooded his body at the realization and he collapsed gratefully back onto the floor.

Shawn again started to struggle against his bonds, simultaneously fighting to keep his growing fear under control. Being trapped in complete darkness - unable to hear, unable to move, with absolutely no idea where he was or who was holding him - was claustrophobically terrifying. Shawn tried very hard to dwell on anything other than his current situation. _Think pineapples, think beautiful weather, think about the beach, think about Jules, or Gus, or Dad...hell, think about Lassie. Just don't think about the dark..._ He knew that if he focused on the darkness he would not be able to quell the panic. _Keep it together, man. Dad and Gus will find you. Or Juliet and Lassiter will. Someone will. You'll be fine. Just hang on until they get here._

_

* * *

_

Normally Henry enjoyed the quiet solace of the lake, but this time his mind was not on fishing at all. He'd been out for two hours, but all he could think about was his son. _Something's not right. It's not just that stupid argument. Something else is going on._ Although there was nothing to indicate that Shawn was in trouble, Henry had been a cop long enough to know that you never ignore your gut instinct. And at the moment, his gut was twisted with worry.

_Jesus, kid. What have you gotten into now?_

Henry fervently hoped that this time his instincts were mistaken, that for once he was wrong. But even as he quickly rowed the tiny boat towards the shore, he knew that he wasn't.

* * *

Gus frowned as Shawn's phone went straight to voice mail yet again. "Come on, man. Why aren't you picking up?" Gus muttered under his breath as he climbed back into his tiny blue car. Opting not to leave a fourth message, he instead sighed and dropped the phone into the passenger seat before starting the ignition.

Driving a little faster than normal, Gus headed straight to his best friend's apartment. _I'll give him a piece of my mind, he always gripes when I don't answer **my** phone right away. _But the promise of reaming out his buddy wasn't comforting in the least.

That was when Gus admitted that he was truly worried.

* * *

Time no longer had meaning for Shawn. He did not have a clue how long he'd been lying there, miserable and scared and utterly alone. _Hours? Days?_ He was hungry but not ravenous, thirsty but not dehydrated. _So not days, at least. That's something._ He'd long since given up on trying to escape his bonds, as struggling only seemed to tighten the ropes that viciously bit into his wrists and ankles. _Even with all those quizzes, all those stupid tests, Dad never taught me how to get out of a situation exactly like this_, he thought bitterly. Trying to escape from the blindfold had also proved futile although he had managed to ease the heavy sack up over his nose, so at least breathing was a little easier. _Not much of an improvement but I'll take what I can get._

After a while he allowed himself to doze, for lack of anything else to do._ It's not like I would be able to tell if someone was coming anyway._ Unfortunately, some time later Shawn's assumption was proven correct. He startled violently as the bag was suddenly ripped off his head. A stifled cry of surprise escaped his sealed lips as his hair was brutally grabbed and his head yanked upwards.

Shawn barely had time to register what had happened before a drug-soaked rag was again placed over his nose. He thrashed and squirmed, trying to scream around the duct tape, but strong hands pinned him down. His lungs felt like they were on fire and he tried desperately to free himself, to get fresh oxygen into his body and fight the effects of the sedative.

It was no use.

_I'm sorry, Dad,_ Shawn thought miserably as he succumbed to unconsciousness once more. _I tried._

_

* * *

_

"Shawn?" Henry knocked loudly on his son's front door. "Shawn, are you in there?" Several calls to Shawn's phone had gone unanswered, so Henry had driven directly to the tiny apartment. "Come on, if you're in there open up!"

Henry knew that even though Shawn liked to goof around, the urgency in his voice would have tipped off his son. _If he was here he'd open the door,_ the elder Spencer thought as he looked around, searching for anything that would indicate his son's whereabouts. His heart sank as he realized that Shawn's motorcycle – _stupid deathtrap_ – was still parked beside the building._ On the other hand, at least he isn't bleeding to death in a ditch somewhere._

As he was standing on the doorstep pondering his next move, he heard a car pull up and a door slam. Henry turned around to see Gus running toward him.

"Mr. Spencer! Have you heard from Shawn?" Gus knew the answer before he even finished asking the question.

"You haven't either, I take it," Henry said flatly.

Gus shook his head vehemently. "I'm really getting worried. We were supposed to meet at that coffee shop over on Main at 10 this morning – Shawn left me a message last night saying something about a lead on a new case. So I waited there until almost 11 and he never showed up and he won't answer his phone! I came straight here, hoping he had just overslept…" At the look on Henry Spencer's face Gus trailed off.

Henry turned back to the apartment and tried to peek in the windows. "Do you have a key?" he tossed over his shoulder.

Gus fumbled with his key chain. "I think so. Here we go." He unlocked the front door.

"Let me go first," Henry said gruffly. "Wait here." He stepped past the younger man and disappeared into the dark apartment. After a moment he called, "There's no one in here!"

Gus stepped inside and looked around. Henry was standing in the doorway to Shawn's bedroom. His face reflected a combination of annoyance and worry.

"There's nothing. No evidence of a struggle, nothing out of the ordinary." Henry observed. He didn't know whether to be relieved or even more concerned.

"Look," Gus frowned as he held up his friend's wallet and keys. "He didn't go far without these."

"Or he didn't go voluntarily," Henry offered quietly. He knelt in the kitchen doorway, examining a previously-unnoticed rag. The former cop pulled a handkerchief from his own pocket and used it to pick up the evidence. Cautiously taking a sniff, he observed softly, "Chloroform. Jesus."

Gus' eyes widened at the implication of the older man's discovery. He hadn't actually believed that anything too terrible had happened. But now, at the look on Henry's face, Gus had confirmation of what he had feared.

Shawn was in serious trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews and alerts! Y'all are great! Standard disclaimers apply for this chapter, yadda yadda, and there are a few references to/possible spoilers for Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark. -abby_

* * *

Again Shawn awakened to pitch black and confusion. He moaned inwardly and tried to breathe deeply, hoping to ease the pounding in his skull. It did not take long for him to ascertain that his situation was much the same as it had been previously – he was lying on his stomach - bound, gagged, blind and deaf - with no idea where he was or how long he'd been there. _It's really cold,_ he realized, abruptly remembering that he was clad only in boxers and a thin t-shirt. They provided little protection against the chilly concrete on which he lay. _I must be someplace different, it wasn't nearly so cold before. _Shawn rolled onto his side and curled up, trying to preserve what small amount of body heat remained.

_Who is doing this to me? And why?_ Shawn could feel the panic rising again, taste it in his mouth, feel it in his tightening chest. _I'm going to die._ The thought came out of nowhere, and once it entered his mind Shawn could not dispel the notion. Suddenly he felt something else rise in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep from being sick. His mouth was still firmly taped shut, and he was unwilling to consider the horror of puking in that situation. After a few minutes – and more frantic swallowing and deep breathing – Shawn managed to keep last night's dinner where it belonged. _Easy, easy,_ he thought miserably. _Dad's coming for you. He's on his way. _

But Shawn was unable to completely quash the doubt in the back of his mind. _He** is** coming, right? We did have that fight...no. He'll come. I know it. He came last time. Please, Dad. Please hurry up._

_

* * *

_

A quick phone call, and half of the Santa Barbara PD was at Shawn's apartment within ten minutes.

"What's going on?" Juliet rushed up to greet Henry and Gus, a worried expression on her pretty face. Lassiter followed at a more reserved pace, but looked almost as concerned as his partner.

Henry scrubbed his hands through what was left of his graying hair. "I don't know, Detective. I found that." He pointed at the chloroform-soaked rag, which he had safely stowed in a plastic bag and placed on the kitchen counter. "Chloroform," he explained whenever Juliet looked puzzled. "Other than that, there's absolutely nothing out of place. Shawn's keys and wallet are still here, though. He definitely didn't go anywhere willingly."

Lassiter stepped forward and asked authoritatively, "When's the last time you heard from Shawn?"

Gus replied, "I got a message from him late last night. I was supposed to meet him this morning - something about a new case - and he never showed."

"Something's very wrong," Henry said simply. "I don't know what happened, but I do know that Shawn is in a lot of trouble. I'm sure of it."

Lassiter eyed the semi-retired cop thoughtfully. He wasn't Henry Spencer's biggest fan - or Shawn's, for that matter - but he had to respect the elder Spencer's judgment. The man had been a hell of a cop in his day, and he certainly wasn't an alarmist. If his gut told him that his son was in danger, for the moment Lassiter was willing to go with it. "Okay," the head detective said. "We'll get this to the lab, dust the apartment for fingerprints. O'Hara, start talking to the neighbors. Maybe one of them saw something." Lassiter nodded solemnly at Henry before moving off to bark orders at the other officers.

"We'll find him," Juliet said before scurrying away, but Henry wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Gus turned to his best friend's father. "What do we do?"

Henry sighed. "Maybe there's something at the Psych office about this new case Shawn mentioned."

Gus hesitated. "Shouldn't we leave that to the police?"

"What, you'd prefer we just sit on our thumbs and wait? I've got to do something." With that declaration, Henry turned and stormed toward his truck. He paused and turned back. "You coming?"

"Right behind you, Mr. Spencer," Gus confirmed. He jumped into the passenger seat. The older man wasted no time jamming it into gear and tearing out of the parking lot.

* * *

Shawn shivered, wretchedly cold on the uncomfortable floor. _What do these people want from me? _Shawn wracked his brain, trying to remember if there was anything that had come up recently, something that could have possibly gotten him into this mess. Shawn couldn't deny his tendency to piss people off, but honestly couldn't think of a single thing he'd done recently. _That case I wanted to talk to Gus about...just a lonely old lady looking for a long-lost cousin. Nothing interesting or dangerous about that. So who's doing this?_

He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so cold. _I hate being cold. This sucks. _A muffled groan escaped as Shawn shifted positions, trying – and failing – to get more comfortable. _Ow. _He was fairly certain that his wrists, rubbed raw by the stiff ropes binding them, had begun to bleed. _Swell._

Continuing his desperate efforts to remain calm, Shawn began mentally retracing his steps from the past few days, trying to make a connection to his current situation. _Let's see…Gus was out on his route so I stopped by the precinct to see if there were any new cases. Nada. Then I ran into Dad and he invited me to dinner._ Shawn frowned at the memory, and crinkled his nose as the duct tape pulled painfully at his lips_. Dinner. **That** went really well. Dad was on a rampage about the case that Gus and I just wrapped up. I swear that man is never happy. I solved the whole freaking thing in a day and he still manages to find something to gripe at me about._ He snorted. _Probably isn't even worried about me. He was going fishing today. I'm sure he's out on a lake somewhere, seething about what a disappointment his son is._ Even as he finished the thought, Shawn knew it wasn't true. He remembered what Gus had told him after the whole Garth-Longmore-bullet-wound-ice-cream-truck debacle, about how Henry had been single-mindedly focused on finding his only child. _I do know he loves me, in his own weird way…if he has any idea that something has happened I'm positive he's trying to find me. _

Reassured by the thought, Shawn refocused on the task at hand. _Okay. What else did I do yesterday? Went for a pineapple smoothie, of course. Stopped by the bank to get cash._ That memory triggered another and Shawn froze. _The bank. There was that creepy guy with the sunglasses that seemed to be watching me._ Thinking hard, Shawn suddenly realized the bank wasn't the only place he'd seen the strange man. _There was a Creepy Sunglasses-Wearing Guy at the diner when I ordered my smoothie. And lurking outside the police station too. Moron,_ Shawn chastised himself. _Some observational skills. It didn't even occur to you that you were being followed? That has to have something to do with all this._

Shawn was so buried in his revelation that he cried out in surprise when a hand grabbed his shoulder. Without warning, Shawn was dragged across the floor and thrown roughly against a wall. His bare skin stung as scrapes from the concrete made their presence known, and his head immediately began to throb from the impact. "What do you want from me?" Shawn tried to ask, but knew the words could not be understood past the duct tape that gagged him.

His mysterious captor ripped the heavy sack from Shawn's head, and Shawn flinched away as the plug was yanked out of his left ear. He could feel his attacker's breath, smell the foul odor as the man leaned close. "Since I'm sure you're wondering, I'm doing this because it's what you deserve," came a rough whisper. Before Shawn could react, the plug was shoved back into his ear and the bag replaced over his head. As he lay there, blind and helpless, a booted foot was brutally driven into his rib cage.

Shawn grunted at the sharp flare of agony from the unexpected blow. He swallowed hard in an attempt to keep down the dangerously looming nausea. Breathing carefully through his nose, Shawn curled into himself as much as he could and tried to ride out the worst of the pain.

After a while, Shawn began to drift. His tenuous grip on consciousness faltered, and he gratefully slipped into oblivion.

* * *

"There's nothing here," Henry said crossly. He stood in the middle of the sunny Psych office, arms folded across his chest. "Are you sure you don't have any idea what Shawn wanted to talk to you about?"

Gus sighed. "No, I wish I did. He just said there was a new case, but he didn't act like it was anything special. I'm not surprised there's nothing here. You know Shawn, he doesn't ever write anything down."

"He doesn't need to," murmured Henry absently. He had picked up a stack of mail and was thumbing through it. After a moment he set the entire stack down on Shawn's desk and shook his head in frustration. "Nothing." Henry sat heavily in Shawn's chair. As he did, a previously-unnoticed piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

"What's this?" Gus knelt to examine the small scrap of paper, and his eyes widened.

"What? What is it?" Henry demanded, joining the younger man.

The handwritten note simply read, YOU WANT HIM? COME AND GET HIM.


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn faded in and out for a very long time, only peripherally aware of his situation. All he knew for sure was that it hurt to stay awake. It hurt a lot, so he didn't bother to fight the overwhelming fatigue.

After several restless hours he finally jerked back into full awareness and gasped as the sudden movement jolted his injured ribs. _Where am I? _He shivered, trying to recall what had happened as he pulled his knees as far into his chest as he could. _Oh god, it's so cold…_

Slowly his mind cleared. Shawn couldn't stifle a whimper as all the painful memories came flooding back. _I'm completely alone. They're not going to get to me in time. I'm going to die here and no one will ever find my body. _Shawn felt himself beginning to lose it, beginning to panic. _Get a grip,_ he commanded inwardly, with as much stubbornness as he could muster. _They'll find you._

_Please, Dad. Gus, come on. Jules, Lassie, someone. Please. Please help me. Don't leave me here to die._

_

* * *

_

Gus watched solemnly as Henry paced the length of Chief Vick's office. The older man's limited patience had waned steadily over the past hours, and it was nearly gone completely.

"It's been well over a day since Shawn went missing! We're running out of time." Henry's tone was one of frustration, but as a fellow parent, Karen Vick could see the underlying worry in her friend's voice. She could not even begin to imagine how he felt, how she would feel if her own child suddenly disappeared.

"I know," she soothed quietly, careful to school her expression. "But we've got a couple of decent leads." A thorough search of Shawn's apartment had turned up another handwritten note, which ominously read IT'S TIME FOR PAYBACK. The lab had been able to pull a partial thumbprint off that one. "We're running the print through all the databases, and Lassiter and O'Hara are following up on an eyewitness report. We'll find him, Henry. We're doing everything we can." She paused. "You should go home, get some rest. I'll call you if anything comes up. You too, Mr. Guster."

At the stubborn looks on the weary faces before her, Chief Vick insisted. "You've been here for almost 30 hours, and it's getting late. Go home. Both of you. Take a shower, grab a nap. I'll call immediately if we get any sort of break."

"Anything, no matter how small," Henry said flatly.

She nodded. "I promise."

Henry rubbed his eyes and grudgingly admitted, "I could use a shower. Come on, Gus, I'll drop you at your car." On the way out the door, with Gus following silently, Henry turned to face his former partner. "I'll be back in one hour."

Karen Vick sighed, and watched the elder Spencer's retreating back as he and Guster headed for the parking lot.

* * *

Shawn shivered relentlessly, curled up on the rough concrete floor. His dark prison was far too chilly to be comfortable even if he had been fully clothed, and he could only assume that it was part of his captor's obvious plan to keep Shawn as miserable as possible. _And it's working. What could I possibly have done to this guy? He said I deserved this._

His musings were interrupted as his chest constricted and his throat suddenly spasmed. Shawn began coughing harshly, an incredibly painful experience with his mouth taped shut. Not to mention the agony it caused to his bruised, aching ribs. _Oh god. **No one **deserves this. Not even me._

Once he caught his breath, Shawn rolled laboriously to his other side, hoping to lessen the pressure on his damaged rib cage. It didn't help, and by the time he was finished every single muscle in his entire body was screaming for mercy. _I can't do this much longer. I can't._ The darkness was all-encompassing, and with each passing minute Shawn found it more difficult to hold his panic in check.

He struggled to take deep, even breaths, but his chest burned with white-hot fire every time he inhaled. Long past the point of trying to figure out who had kidnapped him, Shawn could only focus on trying to remain calm. _Breathe in, breathe out. _He had no idea how much time had passed since that first drug-soaked rag had covered his nose and mouth. _Seems like forever._ Shawn had been trying to ignore the increasingly persistent call of nature for quite a while, and from his dry mouth and pounding headache, he knew he was dehydrated. And god, the hunger. He was so ravenous that he felt physically ill. _Don't think about that. Just breathe._

Shawn continued his careful breathing, although it was starting to become a herculean effort. _You can do this. They're coming. _But in the back of his mind, he knew that the longer he was missing, the harder it would be for the police - and his father - to follow the trail. _Hurry up. Please. Come on. Please. Breathe in, breathe out._ Shawn just focused on the mental words and as before, was completely unprepared for the rough hand that grabbed him, this time by the back of the neck.

* * *

After Henry Spencer dropped him off Gus sat in his car for a long time, just staring at the front of his best friend's apartment. _Come on, Shawn. Hang in there, buddy. We'll find you, I promise. Please just hang in there. _

Gus had never felt so helpless. _Shawn would have figured it out by now._ _He would have looked around the apartment for thirty seconds then done that dumb head-tilt thing and that would be it._ Gus slammed the steering wheel with his hand. _Damn! If I were the one who got kidnapped I would have been home in my own bed by now!_

Overwhelmed by guilt that he was letting Shawn down, Gus made a decision and approached the front door. Looking over his shoulder nervously, Gus used his key to break the seal on the crime scene tape before unlocking the bolt.

_Maybe there's something else here, something the cops missed. I'll just look one more time. I have to, for Shawn._ His determination renewed, Gus slipped silently into the apartment.

* * *

Shawn had only a brief instant to react as the heavy bag was again pulled from his face, and he simply didn't have any fight left. Too exhausted to try yelling, in too much pain to struggle, he just went lax in his captor's solid grip. _What difference does it make at this point anyway,_ Shawn wondered as he awaited the inevitable.

Sure enough, within seconds his nose was again covered in a drug-soaked rag. Only this time, Shawn openly welcomed the swift descent into oblivion.

* * *

Henry drove to his house as if on auto-pilot. He only vaguely noticed his surroundings, was only somewhat aware of the other cars on the semi-deserted roads. He could think only of Shawn._ Too late. We're too late. **I'm** too late. I'm going to lose my son. And the last time I saw him, I snapped at him to grow up._ Henry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to forestall a raging tension headache. _I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm just so damn sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't a better father. I'm sorry I didn't tell you exactly how much I love you._

After a few moments, Henry turned on the radio in an attempt to clear his guilt-ridden mind. He forced himself to listen as the DJ prattled on about the unseasonably cold weather Santa Barbara was having, about how temperatures were expected to dip into the mid-40s by midnight.

Henry realized that he hadn't a clue as to the time, and glanced over at the clock in the truck's dashboard. 10 p.m. _Shawn's been missing for at least 36 hours. Longer than that_, Henry mused, remembering how his gut had twisted as he had first headed out to fish. _God, I should have listened then. Maybe we'd have found him by now._

The ex-cop was still deep in thought as he turned the corner into the alley behind his house. He almost didn't notice what lay in the driveway until it was too late.

"Oh god," Henry said aloud as he threw the old truck into park and scrambled for the door handle. "Shawn!"


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I hope y'all are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Standard disclaimers continue to apply, and for kicks let's add the one about me having no medical knowledge whatsoever. There may be a bit of a delay on the next chapter as I'll be out of town for a couple days, but I'll try not to leave you hanging too long. Feedback is always welcomed, and thank you so much for all of the favorites and alerts! -abby_

* * *

Henry Spencer did not think he'd ever moved so quickly in his life. He flew out of the truck and was kneeling by his son in a heartbeat. Shawn was deathly still, on his side, wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. His hands were so tightly bound behind his back that the ropes were stained with blood. A heavy bag covered his head and as Henry carefully pulled it away, he saw that Shawn was also blindfolded and gagged. _And ear plugs? What the hell? _Ignoring all that for the moment, Henry checked for a pulse. Finding it slow but steady, he gently placed a hand on his unconscious son's shoulder. _He's too cold. _Shawn's skin was like ice, and Henry briefly wondered how long he'd been there, exposed to the "unseasonably cold" elements.

"Shawn. Shawn, can you hear me?" Unsurprised at the lack of response, Henry squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as he pulled out his cell phone. "Hang in there, kid." He swiftly dialed 911 and barked at the dispatcher. Once satisfied that an ambulance was on the way, he disconnected the call and dialed Chief Vick.

She answered on the first ring and Henry didn't mince words. "Karen, I have Shawn. Bastard dumped him on my driveway. Bus is en route. Will you call Gus? He'll want to meet us at the hospital." At her relieved confirmation, Henry snapped his phone shut and returned his full attention to Shawn.

Shawn stirred weakly as he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. _No. No, not again. No more drugs._ His head still spun wildly from the last time, and he knew that another dose would make him dreadfully sick. He moaned softly. _Please don't._ But there was something different. This hand felt almost comforting. And for the first time in a long time, he could hear someone speaking. It was muted by the ear plugs, but he could hear a voice. Hope fluttered in Shawn's belly for a brief second, but disappeared when he realized that the voice sounded angry. Suddenly it went quiet, and Shawn tensed in anticipation of the next round of pain. _Oh god._

The hand pulled away, and then to Shawn's great surprise his blindfold and ear plugs were gently removed. Shawn cautiously opened his eyes and blinked fuzzily. After a few seconds his vision cleared somewhat and he could see a familiar face looming above his own. _Dad?_

"Shawn." There wasn't a word to fully describe how Henry felt upon seeing Shawn's eyes flicker open. Even though his son seemed confused – and terrified – Henry's relief was almost palpable. "Thank god. I'm going to pull off this tape, okay?" At the almost imperceptible nod, Henry removed the gag as gently as he could. He cringed at the resulting grimace of pain on his son's pale face. "I know it hurts. I'm sorry."

Once he could again speak, Shawn whispered roughly. "Dad…" He was afraid to believe that he was safe. "Dad, is that you?" His mouth was so parched he could hardly form the words, but he had to know. _This can't be real. _He'd been so sure he was about to die that he couldn't quite grasp that his horrible ordeal was finally over. _No way. I'm hallucinating. It can't really be him._

"Shhh. It's me. I've got you, Shawn. Don't try to talk. I'm gonna get these ropes off. Just take it easy." Henry brushed a hand across Shawn's forehead reassuringly. He noted with concern that though Shawn's skin was frigid to the touch, the young man didn't shiver at all. _Not a good sign,_ Henry knew. _Where's that damn ambulance?_ He scowled and dug out his pocketknife, making quick work of the bindings that trapped his son.

Shawn whimpered pitifully as Henry began to ease the embedded rope from his raw, bleeding wrists. "I know," Henry said again, his quiet voice laced with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, kid. Hang in there."

Shawn could hear sirens in the distance, and understood that they were for him. Normally he was a reluctant patient but this time he was willing to do anything, so long as it made the pain go away. He was so tired of hurting. Carefully he licked his cracked lips and winced. "Ow," he managed. He had thought that once his hands were free that he'd feel better, but no. If anything he felt worse, as circulation began to return to his fingers and his shoulders protested having been held in the same awkward position for so many hours. Shawn moaned softly, unable to muster the strength to do anything else.

Finally finished with the ropes, Henry carefully gathered his only child into his arms. "I've got you, kiddo. You're safe now," he murmured, cradling Shawn against his own body heat. "Try and relax," he instructed gently.

Even semi-conscious, Shawn knew he must be in bad shape if his father's tone sounded so…kind. _He never sounds like that. At least not toward me. _And under any other circumstances Shawn would have found it most disconcerting to be cradled in his father's arms, but at that moment he was too miserable to care. He was just grateful for the warm support that Henry was providing.

Henry watched as Shawn's eyes slowly drifted shut. His cold body, tense with pain, relaxed just as an ambulance pulled into the driveway. "Hurry," Henry commanded the paramedics, keeping his voice soft so as not to alarm his son.

Henry pulled back to allow the paramedics room to work, but as soon as he broke contact with Shawn the younger man startled awake with an anguished cry. "Dad," he choked, reaching shaking hands out to search for his father. _Help me. Don't leave me alone_. Fear finally took over and he began to weakly fight the paramedics' efforts. They gently tried to restrain him as he struggled, to no avail.

"I'm here, Shawn." When his words had no effect and Shawn continued to resist, Henry grabbed his hands. "I'm here," he said firmly. "I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here."

At his feel of his father's steady hands folding over his own trembling ones, Shawn calmed immediately. Henry kept his word and refused to let go, even as the paramedics finished prepping their patient for transport and pushed the gurney toward the waiting ambulance.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry for the delay! I couldn't get this chapter exactly how I wanted it. Hopefully y'all like what I finally came up with. –abby_

_

* * *

_The first thing he noticed was the warmth. It was fantastic. He'd been so cold for so long he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be anything but. In addition to the glorious warmth, he could feel the reassuring trace of oxygen into his nostrils, the stiffness of an IV line in the crook of his elbow, and less-than-fluffy pillows supporting his head. Other than that he felt...relaxed. Certainly no pain, and he while he couldn't recall specifics at the moment, he knew that was a very good thing.

Slowly his other senses began to catch up, and the next one to sharpen was hearing. A quiet beep sounded steadily from somewhere nearby, and beyond that was a louder, more insistent sound. There was something about _that _sound that seemed particularly significant, and he struggled to place it.

"Shawn. Shawn!" Finally it clicked, and he realized. _ Oh. That's me. Someone's talking to me._

It seemed a monumental effort to force his eyelids open, but eventually he got there and found himself looking into two very worried faces. "Dad? Gus..." Shawn wasn't thrilled to discover that talking was even more difficult than opening his eyes. His voice was rough and hardly more than a whisper.

"Hey," Gus sounded every bit as freaked as he appeared.

Henry's voice was steadier, but the worry lines in his face betrayed his tone. "Shawn, thank god." He studied his son, taking in the dark circles under Shawn's sunken eyes, the parched lips, the oxygen line that ran under his nose and tucked behind his ears. "You really had us worried."

Puzzled, Shawn frowned. "Why?" He knew something had happened. _Something very bad._ But he couldn't quite remember what, and wasn't sure he wanted to.

Henry's brow furrowed in concern and he exchanged a glance with Gus before returning attention to his son. "You don't remember?"

Shawn closed his eyes again in an attempt to focus past the drug-induced fog in his brain. And then he did remember. Everything. It all came rushing back at once, assaulting his senses and making his head spin. Shawn instantly felt sick, and he gasped. His next breaths came in short bursts, and he began to hyperventilate.

"Hey, it's okay." His dad's voice, calming and firm. A supportive hand grasped his shoulder. "Calm down, Shawn. You're safe."

Shawn forced himself to take deep, even breaths, wincing when they awakened the pain in his injured ribs. "Okay. I'm okay." His voice cracked on the words and he coughed. When he opened his eyes again, Gus and Henry were still there, looking more troubled than he'd ever seen either of them. He managed a wan smile. "Promise." He flicked his eyes toward a cup of water sitting on the bedside table.

Gus understood, and held the straw to his friend's lips. "Here you go, buddy." Shawn gratefully took a tiny sip.

There were several questions that Shawn needed to ask - _How long was I missing? Did you catch the guy? What did I do to deserve this? _- but knew he wasn't ready for any of those answers. So he settled for the most obvious. "What's the damage?" he croaked softly, punctuating the question with another weak cough.

Henry rubbed his aching head before replying. "You were severely dehydrated and your body temperature was way too low when I found you." He indicated Shawn's wrists, both of which were heavily bandaged. "Your wrists and ankles are pretty torn up, and you have two broken ribs. Other than that, mostly bruises and scrapes. Could've been a lot worse." He paused. "Can you tell us what happened?"

And there it was. Shawn of course knew that he'd have to give a statement to the police, but had been hoping to put that off for a while. He was in no hurry to relive the horrifying experience. _Should've figured that Dad would ask right away._ He sighed, and earned himself a temporary reprieve when the sigh caught in his bruised chest and turned into a bout of agonizing coughs.

"Take it easy," Henry instructed. He placed a gentle hand at the back of his son's neck as Gus again lifted the water glass to Shawn's mouth.

Shawn's vision was just starting to gray around the edges when he felt the straw touch his lips. He managed another sip of water, and it helped soothe his raw throat. "Thanks," he whispered. He allowed his eyes to drift closed as he ran out of strength.

It was Henry's turn to sigh. "Get some rest, kiddo. We'll talk about it later." He and Gus watched silently as Shawn's body relaxed into the pillows. He appeared to be asleep, but suddenly his eyes flew open.

"Don't leave me," he gasped, looking confused and uncharacteristically panicked. _I can't be alone,_ he thought desperately. _Please don't make me stay here alone._

Gus and Henry exchanged another worried glance, and Gus spoke up. "Don't worry, Shawn. We're not going anywhere."

They were both still sitting at Shawn's bedside an hour later when the door opened. Juliet peeked her head inside and whispered, "Can we come in?"

Henry nodded, and the young detective slipped her slender frame into the room, followed closely by her partner. "How's he doing?" Juliet asked softly.

"He'll be all right," replied Henry. He hoped it was true.

"Has he said anything about what happened?" As usual, Lassiter got right to the point, but he did keep his voice low so as not to wake Shawn.

Henry hesitated. He had found Shawn's earlier reaction to the question unsettling, and though he didn't want to put his son through any more trauma he knew it was unfortunately inevitable. "No." He paused before cautiously adding, "and he got panicky when I asked him about it."

Juliet looked apologetic as she spoke. "We really do need to get his statement if he's up for it. The longer we wait, the more chance this guy will get away."

"I know," Henry said. And he did. But for the moment, the parental part of his mind was outranking the cop. He struggled to reconcile the two and finally concluded, "You can try, but I'm not sure how much he actually remembers."

Gus leaned over his best friend. "Shawn. Wake up, buddy." When Shawn began to stir in response, he kept going. "Jules and Lassie are here. They need to talk to you."

_No,_ Shawn thought. _No, I don't want to._ Out loud he just groaned.

Henry stepped in. "Come on, son." He seemed to be reading Shawn's thoughts as he continued. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but we need you to. Come on, kiddo."

_What, is__** he**__ psychic now?_ Shawn blinked sleepily and finally focused on the faces around him.

"Hi," Juliet smiled warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Shawn said hoarsely.

"We'll try to make this quick," Lassiter replied briskly. "Can you tell us anything about the person that kidnapped you?"

Shawn thought hard. He didn't want to admit how he'd completely missed having a stalker the entire day before he was grabbed – especially not in front of his father – and decided to play it off. He lifted a shaky hand and touched his fingers to the side of his head as if he were having a vision. "Tall, around six-three. Shoulder-length brown hair. A little scrawny. A lot creepy." The short speech winded him, and he lowered his hand and took a careful breath.

Shawn could feel his dad studying his face, and continued without returning the steady gaze. "I woke up at 5:15 in the morning and went to get a drink. He must've been waiting. He grabbed me from behind and put a rag over my face. I passed out and when I woke up, I was bound, gagged and blindfolded. I didn't see anything else." He struggled to reach for the glass of water and was relieved when Gus helped him out.

"Do you have any idea where you were held?" Juliet asked, still scribbling in her notebook.

Shawn shook his head and winced as the dull ache in his skull became an active throb. "No," he murmured. "It was two different places, but I couldn't see." He closed his eyes and tried to fight the encroaching panic. _You're okay,_ he reminded himself. _You're safe now. You're not blind anymore. Just breathe._

When Shawn opened his eyes again, he was staring into four concerned faces. Well, three concerned faces plus Lassiter, who mostly looked irritated. His dad spoke first. "You okay? You kind of zoned out for a few minutes."

"Fine," Shawn croaked, annoyed by the weakness in his voice. _Let's just get this over with._ "What else do you need, Jules?" Each question took him a step closer to reliving the nightmare. Though Shawn's impressive memory was mostly tied to visual cues, he was having no trouble recalling the agony of his captivity in vivid detail. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it together. Fear was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to strike. He could feel it in his tightening chest and his trembling hands, but refused to allow his terror to show in front of the two police detectives. _Gus and Dad are one thing, but I can't have Lassie throwing it back in my face for all of eternity. And god only knows what Jules would think of me._

She hesitated, as if unsure whether to ask. "Did he say anything? Anything at all about why he kidnapped you, specifically?" The lack of a ransom demand, paired with the disturbing notes found at Shawn's apartment and the Psych office made it pretty clear that this had been a personal attack.

That was when Shawn shut down. Gus and Henry could see the exact second it occurred, as though someone flicked a switch. Shawn's weary face just closed off. "No," he whispered. "Please no more."

Henry stood. "That's enough, detectives. You have a description of the suspect. I'll let you know as soon as he feels up to finishing his statement."

Lassiter looked as though he was about to protest, but Juliet stopped her partner with a glare. "Thank you. Shawn, take care." She herded Lassiter out the door without a moment's hesitation, glancing worriedly back over her shoulder at the pale figure lying in the hospital bed.

Once they were gone, Gus squeezed his friend's hand reassuringly. "Shawn, are you okay?" Gus sounded strained. He hated seeing his best friend in so much pain, especially when he couldn't do anything to fix it.

Shawn tried a grin, but it was a pathetic attempt and he knew it. "I'm fine, buddy." The lie fell flat, and both Gus and Henry stared at him incredulously. "Okay, maybe not." He paused. "But I will be."

His best friend and father seemed willing to accept the amended statement as truth, that given enough time Shawn really would be fine. Shawn wanted to believe it too. He really did. But the real truth was that he didn't know how he could ever be okay again.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you all for the wonderfully kind reviews! I wish I was better about replying to each one personally, but I always figure you'd prefer that I spend my limited free time working on the next chapter! Please keep in mind that I have no medical knowledge whatsoever, and all other standard disclaimers apply. This chapter was really hard to write, I hope you like it! -abby_

_

* * *

_Henry had assumed that once Shawn was found, he'd be able to stop worrying about his son so much. That hadn't happened yet.

Oh, the worry was different, to be sure, but it was still there. Shawn had been in the hospital for three days and while his physical injuries were healing well, his emotional and mental states were another matter. He was…off. _Not that the kid's ever been "normal" in the traditional sense - not by a long shot - but he has his own version of normalcy. This isn't it._ Henry watched his son pick at the food on his plate. It did look pretty unappetizing, he had to admit, but that wasn't the point.

"Shawn."

The young man glanced up, a question written across his too-pale face. "What's up?"

Henry gestured at the tray. "You're not eating."

Shawn made a face as he pushed the plate away. "Have you seen what they're trying to pass off as food around here? It's disgusting. I should call Lassie and report it as a crime."

Henry sighed. "I don't dispute that, but yesterday Gus brought you a pineapple smoothie. You barely took a sip." That was** definitely **not normal for Shawn, someone who claimed that pineapples were the fruit of the gods.

"I wasn't hungry." There was challenge in the words.

Henry refused to take the bait. "Shawn, you haven't eaten anything since you've been in the hospital." _Or during the time you were held captive,_ the ex-cop finished the thought silently. "They're not going to release you until you eat a decent meal," he said patiently.

There was a pause during which Shawn deliberately avoided looking his father in the eye. Suddenly it all made sense. _He's scared. He doesn't__** want**__ to go home. He's afraid of being alone. Jesus, Shawn. Why didn't you just say so?_ Henry knew the answer to that, of course, and also knew that he needed to be careful how he phrased his next words.

"So," Henry tried to sound casual, "when they do let you out of here are you planning to stay with Gus? Because…ah…you're welcome at my place." _It was a lot harder to say that than I thought it would be._

Shawn kept his gaze focused on his hands, which lay in his lap. He began absently picking at the bandages on his left wrist. He hadn't talked to Gus about it - or even really given it much thought - and while he was sure that his best friend wouldn't mind a temporary houseguest Gus was usually out on his sales route for a lot of the day. Shawn would be just as alone at Gus's place as in his own apartment. On the other hand, he didn't exactly relish the thought of being at his father's mercy around the clock.

He shrugged, and then grimaced as the muscles in his shoulders protested. They were badly strained due to the way he'd been bound, and were still very sore. "Um, I don't know, Dad. I don't want to be a burden to you or Gus." _But I really don't want to be by myself, either._

Henry barely succeeded in covering his surprise at the un-Shawn-like statement. He'd never known his son to worry about inconveniencing anyone, ever. In fact, being a pain in the ass seemed to be his primary mission in life. The comment just served to cement Henry's suspicion that something was very wrong, that there was more to the entire situation than Shawn had let on.

Lassiter and O'Hara had agreed to give the young man some space after their first attempt at getting his statement, but with no real leads regarding their suspect they'd come back to talk to Shawn the next day. It had gone about as well as the first time. Whenever Shawn was asked if his captor had spoken, he just closed down, refusing – or unable – to answer.

Henry had tried to get some answers himself, but wasn't willing to push. And though he'd assumed so at first, eventually Henry had come to the conclusion that Shawn wasn't just trying to be difficult. Something had obviously happened; something so awful that Shawn couldn't bring himself to discuss it. He made a mental note to check with Gus. If his son would talk to anyone, it would be his lifelong best friend.

Henry dragged his attention back to the present, and saw that while he was lost in thought Shawn had drifted off. Shawn's periods of lucid wakefulness were becoming frequent, but he still slept far more than he managed to stay awake. For the most part he seemed to sleep peacefully, something for which Henry was grateful, but he knew that the IV painkillers were probably responsible. Shawn had always been highly susceptible to the mind-numbing effects of such drugs, and Henry feared the repercussions of Shawn's traumatic experience once he was back at home and away from their assistance.

Henry was still wearily studying son's face - the sallow complexion, the dark circles under his eyes, the fragile set to his features - when the door opened and Shawn's attending physician stepped in. Dr. Ashcroft was a no-nonsense man in his mid-fifties, and Henry had liked him from their very first meeting. He rose and joined the doctor on the other side of the room, away from Shawn's bed.

"Hello, Mr. Spencer," the silver-haired physician intoned, "how is our patient this afternoon?"

Henry glanced over at his son, who had begun to snore softly. "Better, I guess. But he's still not eating anything."

Ashcroft nodded. "The nurses said as much. I do still feel like it's time to discharge him. In all honesty, there's not much else we can do for him here – beyond putting in a feeding tube, which is rather extreme at this point – and I'm quite sure that he'll eat when he's hungry enough." At the incredulous look on Henry Spencer's face, the doctor continued, "He's had a very disturbing experience. Everyone copes in a slightly different way, and it will just take time to get him back on his feet and put the whole thing behind him. Don't you think he'd prefer to do that at home, rather than in a hospital?"

_That's the question, isn't it?_ Henry rubbed his eyes. "If you think he's ready." He wasn't willing to explore the complicated nature of his and Shawn's relationship with the brusque doctor.

Dr. Ashcroft nodded. "I do. I'll see to the paperwork. He'll be home with you by dinnertime."

"Thanks, Doc." Henry turned back to face his son. With a heavy sigh, the former cop returned to his seat at the bedside. He'd hardly settled in when he noticed hazel eyes tracking his every move.

"You don't have to, you know." Shawn sat up slowly, bracing his hand against his broken ribs for support. "Ow." He blew out a careful breath, then fixed his father in an unreadable stare.

"Don't have to do what?" Henry was genuinely confused.

"Take me in, like some sort of a…charity case. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." Shawn's expression was completely neutral, but inside he felt like a ragged bundle of nerves.

_You're really just not going to make this easy, are you, kid?_ Choosing his response with great care, Henry replied softly, "You're not a 'charity case', Shawn. You're my kid. I want to know that you're safe." The only way that was going to happen was if he could keep close tabs on Shawn, at least until his abductor was behind bars.

"Whatever you say," Shawn clearly wasn't agreeing, but Gus arrived before Henry had time to push the issue further.

"Hey, buddy!" Shawn greeted his friend cheerfully. Gus wasn't fooled. He instantly saw the tension behind the bright smile.

"Hey, Shawn. How are you feeling?" Gus pulled another pineapple smoothie out of a paper bag and set it on the bedside table.

"They're letting me go home today," came the response. It didn't escape Henry's notice that Shawn had conveniently sidestepped the question, and apparently was going to ignore the smoothie as well.

Gus smiled broadly. "That's great news! Are you going to stay with your father?" He gestured in Henry's direction.

Unthinkingly, Shawn shrugged again before remembering his sore shoulders. He winced. _I have got to stop doing that._

Gus looked at his friend solemnly. "I think it's for the best, Shawn. You don't need to be alone right now. I don't mind if you stay with me, but I have to be gone most of the day."

"I can take care of myself." As soon as he said it, Shawn wondered what he was thinking. _Why do you keep saying that? Do you want Dad to actually take you up on it and decide you're fine at your own apartment?_

"No one said you couldn't," Gus continued without missing a beat. "But you've been through a lot, and right now you have no business being by yourself. Especially while your kidnapper is still out there somewhere. Stop being so damn stubborn." Gus folded his arms across his chest and pointedly matched Shawn's glare.

Henry allowed a small smile to ghost across his lips. _Thanks, kid._ He was glad that the younger man had vocalized what Henry himself had wanted to say. _He'll listen to Gus._

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Gus, don't be…" he paused. Henry and Gus waited. Knowing Shawn, the rest of the sentence would be something absurd like 'a rabid porcupine' or 'exactly half of an 11-pound black forest ham'.

For once, however, Shawn seemed to be at a loss. He opened and closed his mouth for a moment before saying, "Don't be ridiculous. Chief Vick already said that she'd put an officer on me 24 hours a day until they catch the guy. It's not like I'll be in any real danger." He folded his own arms across his chest, careful to avoid the extensive bruising around his broken ribs. _Stop it, Shawn. Just stop talking. Why are you arguing about this? _

But he did know why. _If I spend all day around Dad eventually I'll end up telling him everything. How this whole thing was my own stupid fault. How it probably could have been avoided if I'd noticed my stalker. Or worse, how I did something to deserve it in the first place._

Finally Henry had had enough. He narrowed his eyes and said evenly, "For god's sake, Shawn. You're going home with me and that is final. Do you understand?" He drew the last three words out for emphasis.

Half annoyed, half relieved that the decision had obviously been made for him, Shawn nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, gingerly relaxing back into the pillows. "Got it." _Like I have a choice._

Shawn turned his attention to the pineapple smoothie sitting nearby, trying to escape the appraising glares of both his father and his best friend. He took a tentative sip and swallowed as Henry nodded approvingly.

But really, he still wasn't all that hungry.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I truly hope that y'all are enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Standard disclaimers apply. And remember, I love reviews! -abby_

* * *

"Shawn. Hey, kiddo." Henry reached over and gently shook his son's knee. Shawn had dozed off during the brief drive from the hospital, and his head rested against the window. "Wake up. We're here."

Blearily Shawn opened his eyes. He blinked a few times and looked around, momentarily confused. "Where?"

"My place," Henry reminded him patiently. "Come on, let's get you inside." The older man got out of his truck and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for Shawn. "Easy. Easy, now."

Shawn grunted as he swung his feet to the ground and with Henry's help, carefully stood. His broken ribs were still very painful, and unfortunately it didn't take much to aggravate them. Shawn reluctantly admitted that he appreciated the firm support of his dad's arm around his waist.

Slowly the pair shuffled into the house, and Henry eased his son down onto the couch. "Relax here for a minute," he instructed. "I'm going to go back out to the truck and get your bag." Shawn silently obeyed, gingerly relaxing his battered body into the cushions.

Right on schedule, Karen Vick had pulled up outside with a uniformed officer in tow. Stepping out of her car she asked, "How's he doing, Henry?" The concern was sincere. As much of an irritant as Shawn Spencer could be, the chief of police had to admit that the station had been far too quiet for the last several days. She hoped the young man would be back on his feet soon.

Henry sighed. "About the same. Thanks for stopping by, Karen."

"Of course." She gestured at the young man standing nearby. "This is Officer Hibbs." Vick had no intention of letting her psychic detective - and the son of an old friend - go unprotected. "I've worked out a rotating schedule for the protection detail." She smiled grimly. "Even Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara volunteered to take a shift. Your house will be under constant guard until we catch this bastard. And we **will **catch him." She looked pointedly at Henry, who nodded wearily.

"I know you will. Thanks again." Henry nodded an acknowledgment to the young uniform, who smiled in return. Vick got into her car and after a few final stern instructions to her officer, drove away. Hibbs headed for the front porch, ready to begin his patrol.

Henry grabbed Shawn's bag from the truck and by the time he made it back into the den, Shawn was snoring. Henry shook his head – he'd been hoping to get the kid into a bed where he'd be more comfortable – but decided to leave him be for the moment. _ He needs the rest. Besides, I need to start dinner._

He'd asked Gus to come over and join them for steaks, knowing that Shawn would be more relaxed with his friend around. Henry was going to do everything in his power to get life back to normal, in the hopes that Shawn would snap out of whatever funk he'd slid into.

For the next thirty minutes Henry worked swiftly and efficiently in the kitchen, and was so lost in thought that he startled as Shawn entered the room. The young man kept his right arm wrapped around his midsection in an attempt to brace his tender ribcage. His left hand was pressed into the wall for balance, and his face was white as a sheet. A thin sheen of perspiration shone at his hairline, a testament to the effort it had taken for him to traverse the short distance from the den.

"Shawn!" Henry yelped. Worry sharpened his tone as he demanded, "What the hell are you doing?" He wiped his hands and was immediately by his son's side, placing an arm around Shawn's waist and taking his weight.

"Need some water," Shawn explained breathlessly. He allowed his father to gently lower him into a nearby chair. _And didn't want to be in there by myself_, he added mentally. Even though he knew his dad was nearby, it had scared him to wake up alone in the semi-dark room. _Gotta get a handle on that. Can't be freaking like a toddler every time someone turns out the lights._

Henry grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to Shawn with a stern look. "You should have called me. I could have brought it to you."

Shawn took a small drink and shook his head, doing his best to ignore the stabbing agony in his chest. _Stupid ribs. God, that hurts._ "I'm fine. Really. Besides, I'm sick of just lying around all the time." That last part was true, at least.

Henry wasn't convinced. "Yeah, well, you look like crap, kid."

Shawn raised an eyebrow, but was too tired to be offended. He smiled faintly. "Thanks for that, Dad."

"No problem," Henry chuckled dryly. "Look, Gus won't be here for another hour or so. Why don't you go in my room and lay down for a while? You'll be more comfortable in there than on the couch. Come on, I'll help you."

"Nah," Shawn said as he slowly rose to his feet, waving off his dad's attempt at assistance. "I'm okay. I'm gonna head up to my room." He thought – hoped – he'd sleep better in the room he had grown up in. _Dad's room is way too dark. _

"Shawn." Henry's exasperation was evident. "Be serious. You barely made it in here. How are you going to make it all the way upstairs by yourself?"

Stubbornness took hold in Shawn's expression. "I'll manage. For real, Dad. I'm okay." He headed cautiously for the door, half-expecting his father to follow, but relieved when he didn't.

"Fine, but if you need anything you call me." Henry watched with concern as Shawn began his laborious journey, but forced himself to stay put. _He needs to do things on his own,_ the older man reasoned. _You have to back off when he pushes._ It wasn't easy, but he managed to return his focus to dinner preparations. Most of it, anyway. He kept one ear cocked at the hallway, listening carefully for any indication that Shawn needed him.

Shawn did have to admit that his father had a point. The staircase may as well have been as steep as Mount Everest and his chest was already hurting, but he really did want to be in his familiar old room. _Here we go. Okay. One step at a time._

It took nearly ten minutes and a required a lot of rest stops, but finally he reached the top of the stairs. Shawn smiled triumphantly in spite of his exhaustion. Using the wall as support, he shuffled the remaining distance to his childhood bedroom and pushed the door open.

It was all he could do to stay upright long enough to reach the bed, and sitting was a welcome relief. Thankful he was already dressed in comfy sweats and didn't need to change clothes, Shawn kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. The late afternoon light streaming through the blinds was reassuring, and he didn't even consider closing the shades.

Carefully, mindful of his bruised and broken body, Shawn rolled over on one side and tucked his hands beneath the pillow in an attempt to get more comfortable. He shifted as the bandages on his wrists got hung in the sheets, but after a few moments he finally found a suitable position.

_What's this?_ Under the pillow, his fingers closed around a slip of paper. He pulled it out slowly and froze in horror as he read the hand-scrawled message:

THE FUN IS JUST BEGINNING. HAVE A NICE NAP.

The note dropped from unsteady hands. "Dad?" Shawn called, but his voice was swallowed by terror. "Dad? Dad?" His heart seized for a few beats, and fear washed over him like an icy waterfall. _Oh god. No. Please no._ Somehow he stood, and scrambled away from the bed as quickly as his damaged body would allow. "Dad!"

Down in the kitchen, Henry was chopping vegetables. He thought he heard something and paused to listen. He was about to dismiss the muffled sound as having come from outside, but then he heard it again, more insistent. It sounded urgent. No, not just urgent. Terrified. _Shawn._

Henry dropped the knife and took off, taking the stairs two at a time. "Shawn!" With his heart in his throat, he burst through the bedroom door and found his son curled into a ball in a far corner.

Shawn's face was buried in his knees, arms wrapped around his legs as he hugged them into his shaking body. Henry sat beside his son and stroked a gentle hand through his hair, down his back. He patted Shawn's shoulder as he spoke. "Hey, kid. Hey," he said soothingly. "What's going on?"

Unable to speak, Shawn lifted his head slightly and flicked his eyes toward something on the floor. _Dad, I'm scared,_ he thought desperately. _Please don't let him get me again. Please._ Henry followed the petrified gaze to a white slip of paper discarded nearby. Upon reading the handwritten words, Henry's own chest clenched tight with fear.

He patted his pockets with one hand, searching for his cell as he kept the other on Shawn's shoulder reassuringly. He had just located the phone when he felt his son's quivering body jerk.

Shawn lurched toward a wastebasket, reaching it just in time to violently empty the meager contents of his stomach. As Shawn gagged and retched, whimpering pitifully, Henry rubbed his back. Feeling utterly helpless, the older man murmured softly, "You're okay, kiddo. You're going to be fine."

Still shuddering, Shawn wordlessly leaned into his father's support. "That's it, kid. I've got you. Just relax," Henry soothed, placing a gentle arm around his son. To his great surprise, Shawn abandoned all pretense of strength or independence. He moved closer and rested his head against Henry's shoulder, eyes shut. _You're gonna be okay, son._ Henry was alternately furious and sickened. Furious that Shawn was obviously still in serious danger. Sickened that the poor kid couldn't even feel safe in his childhood home. _We'll get the bastard, I promise._ With his only child trembling frantically in his solid grip, he flipped open the phone and hit speed dial.

The call was answered immediately and Henry did not waste any time. Fury colored his tone and clipped the words.

"Karen. He was here. The bastard was in my house."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Wow. Thank you so much for the incredible reviews and support. Y'all are awesome! Sorry for the delay with this chapter…I'm still not sure I'm happy with it but I guess every chapter can't be the best one. :) I'm working really hard to keep everyone in character, but it's difficult to write them in a traumatic experience - everyone reacts differently to something like that, you know? And since we don't ever see it on the show to this extent I don't really have a frame of reference..._

_FYI - I'll try to keep posting fairly regularly, but I just started grad school so spare time is very limited these days. I absolutely promise that I will not abandon the story - I never leave anything unfinished. –abby_

* * *

After ending the brief conversation with Chief Vick and snapping his phone shut, Henry looked down at his son. Shawn's head still rested on his shoulder and the young man continued to tremble. The violent shudders echoed through Henry's own body.

_What do I say?_ Henry honestly didn't have any idea. _ I told him he'd be safe here. Jesus Christ, I thought he __**would be**__ safe here._ With an effort, Henry forced the self-recrimination to a halt. _Not now. The only thing that matters right now is Shawn. I have to help him keep it together._

"Shawn. Can you hear me?"

An almost imperceptible jerk, a brief pause in the relentless trembling. Shawn's eyes opened and rolled up to meet Henry's. He lifted his head, mouth working as though he wanted to say something. Finally he managed to find his voice. "Dad."

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm here." _I'm not going anywhere,_ Henry thought fiercely. _God, kid. I'm so sorry I can't do more. Like kill the asshole that's putting you through this nightmare._

Shawn's voice was hardly audible, but his words were clear. "I'm scared."

The simple admission took Henry's breath away. He'd known it already, of course. But actually hearing those two words come out of Shawn's mouth…Henry wasn't sure what to say, but he did know that his son needed him.

"I know, son. And you have every right to be. But I promise we will find this guy. And until we do, I'm not leaving you alone. Okay?" Henry tried to keep his tone somewhere between confident and comforting. "I promise I won't let him get to you." _Again._

"'Kay," Shawn whispered. He wanted to believe that, he really did, but it was all just too much to handle and his mind was threatening to shut down in self-defense_. I can't do it again. I can't. What if he finds me? What if he hurts Dad?_ Exhaustion and terror warred within his battered body, and he slumped against Henry's shoulder once more.

_Just rest, kid. Don't fight it._ Henry sighed as Shawn relaxed slightly. The older man surprised himself by unthinkingly dropping a kiss on top of his son's head - an action he hadn't performed inside of fifteen years, at the very least. Somehow it seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

It was Shawn's turn to sigh, though his sounded more like a sob. _Dad will protect me. I'm safe here._ He hoped it was true.

It dawned on Henry that the cops would arrive at any moment, and he would rather Shawn not still be in the room when they started combing through it. "Shawn," he kept his voice gentle. "Hey, kid, do you feel like you can stand? Let's get you downstairs."

"'Kay," Shawn mumbled again. Multi-syllabic words seemed beyond him for the moment. He felt strong hands under his arms, guiding him to his feet. Shawn did what he could to help, but knew his efforts were pathetic. _Everything hurts and I'm just so tired._

Henry was not bothered by having to support the bulk of his son's weight. "I've got you, kiddo," he murmured reassuringly. He felt Shawn relax into his grip, and he gently steered his son into the hall. They had gotten as far as the staircase when Henry heard a door close. Judging from how Shawn tensed in his arms, he'd heard it too.

A familiar voice drifted up the stairs. "Shawn? Mr. Spencer?"

_Thank god. Gus._ "We're up here," Henry called. "I could use some help."

Gus came charging up the stairs and startled at Shawn's pitiful appearance. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"Later," Henry mouthed. Gus nodded and immediately took up a position on his friend's other side. Together, they cautiously maneuvered a semi-conscious Shawn down the stairs. They were settling him on the couch when someone else arrived at the front door.

Gus understood Henry's silent instruction to stay with Shawn while he answered the loud knocking. Gus sat in the chair nearest his drowsy friend and listened, surprised to hear Lassiter's no-nonsense baritone coming from the hall, accompanied as usual by Juliet's more dulcet tones. _Why are they here? What is going on?_

He was just about to get up and investigate further when he noticed Shawn beginning to stir. Gus promptly ignored the mysterious hallway conversation and focused on his injured friend instead. "Hey, buddy. How are you doing? Do you need anything?"

Shawn blearily looked up, obviously puzzled. "Gus?" _Where did he come from?_ The fog of exhaustion was making it hard for him to follow what was going on. _I'm really tired,_ he thought again. But every time he closed his eyes, Shawn found himself trapped, back in the pitch blackness with no escape. He couldn't decide which was worse, the crushing fatigue or the terrifying dark.

"Yeah, it's me." Gus hesitated. He had never seen Shawn look so confused – so disconnected from his surroundings - and frankly it scared him. He wanted to ask what had happened, but decided not to risk upsetting his friend. Worriedly watching Shawn's pale face, he simply repeated his earlier question. "Do you need anything?" When there was no response - just another groggy round of slow blinks - Gus checked his watch and saw that it was nearing time for Shawn's next dose of pain medication. "Have you taken your meds yet?"

Henry appeared out of nowhere and answered on Shawn's behalf. "Not yet. We're going to have to hold off for a little while." He gestured to Gus, and the two huddled in a far corner. Quickly and succinctly Henry explained what Shawn had found, and Gus's eyes widened_. Oh my god. Not again. Poor Shawn. No wonder he's so freaked._

"Lassiter and O'Hara are upstairs now," Henry continued softly, "but they're going to want to question Shawn again. I'm going to go check in, find out if they have anything." He glanced over at his son, concern evident in his weary face. "He's kind of in and out. See if you can get him talking." With the quiet instruction, Henry left the room.

Gus sighed and made his way back to Shawn's side. His friend's eyes had drifted shut again. Gus knelt on the floor, close to Shawn's head.

"Hey, Shawn. Come on. I need you to wake up for me." Nothing. Not even a flicker. "Shawn," Gus tried again, strain and worry apparent in his voice. "Shawn, come on. Wake up."

_That's Gus. Gus is here._ Finally Shawn placed the voice and slowly he fought his way to full awareness. He opened his eyes and focused on his friend with a faint smile. "Hey, buddy. What's up?" He struggled to sit, and was thankful when Gus helped him into an upright position and propped him with cushions.

Gus studied his friend, taking in the lines of pain and weariness that seemed to have become a permanent part of Shawn's features. He noted the deep-seated fright in the hazel eyes, the tension in the rigid posture. With a heavy sigh, Gus carefully prodded, "Shawn, do you know what happened just now? Upstairs, in your room?" He tried to mask his concern, which was increasing exponentially with each passing moment. _I can't stand to see him like this…he's not himself. Not even close. _

Shawn did know. He wished that he didn't. But in reality, he remembered all too well the feeling of terror as he found the handwritten note. The feeling of helplessness that had crept in as he read the taunting message. _Please, no._

"I don't want to," he whispered with a small shake of his head. "Don't make me." _I can't think about it. I'm so scared. _Shawn felt himself beginning to freak as his last shred of control slipped away. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself, wincing as his busted ribs protested.

Gus softened his tone and put a reassuring hand on his best friend's shoulder. "I know you don't want to. I'm not going to make you do anything. But Lassie and Jules are here. They need you to talk to them." He paused for emphasis. "They want to help, Shawn. We all do."

_No. No way._ Shawn shook his head vehemently and gasped at the pain that accompanied the movement. "I can't." The fear, a devastating combination of vulnerability and terror, clutched him in a vice-like grip. Abruptly he was struck by an irrational, overwhelming urge to run. _I have to get out of here._ _I can't do this. _His heart slammed erratically against his chest. His breathing hitched and began to accelerate. His ribs burned with each rapid inhalation and Shawn desperately tried to stifle a painful cough.

It wasn't hard for Gus to recognize the start of a panic attack. It was, however, _very_ hard for him to see it happening in his normally easygoing best friend. He kept one hand on Shawn's shoulder and placed the other on his knee. "Take it easy, buddy. Breathe. Slow and easy, try to calm down." The words had no effect, and Gus was not even sure that Shawn remembered he was there.

Suddenly Gus was pushed aside as Shawn clumsily rose to his feet. Instantly dizzy from the effort, Shawn continued to panic, gasping for air as black spots danced along the edges of his vision. _I'm going to die. _The hauntingly familiar fear returned just as darkness descended on Shawn full force.

Fortunately, Gus was there to catch him as he fell.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Well, I got this chapter up a lot sooner than I expected! Mostly father/son bonding-type stuff...I'm just fascinated by the relationship that Henry and Shawn have on the show. Hopefully I did it justice here...thanks as always for the awesome support. Y'all are the best! -abby_

* * *

Shawn awakened gradually. He was sore from head to toe, and his broken ribs throbbed in rhythm with his pounding skull. Slowly he rolled to one side, careful to avoid his battered rib cage. He blinked several times, trying to clear the fuzziness from his vision. Once the haze lifted, he could see his dad dozing in a chair by the bed. Shawn tried to get Henry's attention, but all that he could manage was a quiet groan. It seemed to be enough.

Henry jolted awake and immediately sat up. "Shawn, thank god." He scrubbed his hands through his hair and studied his son intently. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty crappy," Shawn answered softly. "What happened?" He searched his memory, trying to figure out how he came to be tucked into his father's bed. He recalled the note in his bedroom, was vaguely aware of being downstairs at some point, and then…nothing. _What the hell?_ He frowned. Memory lapses weren't something that Shawn was accustomed to, but he'd had several in the past few days. He didn't like it.

Henry hesitated before replying. "You had a panic attack."

"Ohhhhhh," Shawn murmured, suddenly remembering the terrifying moments leading up to his collapse. He'd never felt so out of control before – it had been surreal, almost like he was watching someone else's emotional breakdown. _Let's not go there again,_ Shawn reprimanded himself as he felt his heartbeat quicken. He breathed deeply, trying to remain calm.

Henry could see his son struggling to maintain composure, and decided to change the subject. "Come on, kid. You've got to be hungry – we never got around to enjoying those steaks last night. It's time for breakfast. Think you can get up?"

"Sure." Shawn was more than willing to give it a try if it gave him something else to focus on. He cautiously pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs to the floor. A wave of dizziness nearly knocked him back down, but it quickly passed and after a few seconds of careful breathing the world stopped spinning.

Henry stood and stretched, attempting to work out the kinks caused by spending all night in a chair. "Ready?" he asked, and at the small nod Henry easily hoisted Shawn to his feet. He tried not to think about how thin and fragile the kid seemed, although it was difficult when he could feel ribs through his shirt. _I wonder how long since he's actually eaten a decent amount of food. Several days, at least._

Henry wrapped one of Shawn's arms around his own shoulders and slowly the two men made their way to the kitchen table. "Here, kiddo," Henry said softly as he eased his grateful son into a chair.

Shawn watched passively as Henry puttered around the kitchen, searching for pancake mix and grouching about the lack of orange juice. Shawn still wasn't hungry, but knew that excuse wasn't going to cut it with his father. He just hoped he could keep something down. A feeling of queasiness seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his gut, and the idea of food wasn't even remotely appealing.

"Gus okay?" Shawn suddenly remembered the look of concern on his buddy's face. And he knew how hard it would be for him to see Gus freak out, if their situations were reversed. _I wish he hadn't been here._ _He didn't need to see that._

Henry was busily preparing pancake batter and stopped mid-stir at the question. He eyed Shawn and chose his response carefully. "He's your best friend. He's worried about you. We all are." He paused. "Even Lassiter."

Shawn snorted derisively. "Yeah, I'm sure Lassie's real worried about what's going on with me."

"You'd be surprised." Henry resumed stirring. The previous night, the head detective had hovered awkwardly after Shawn's collapse, pacing and grumbling about calling an ambulance. The consensus had eventually been that Shawn just needed some rest, but that hadn't stopped Lassiter from admitting his concern – reluctant though it was.

Shawn lapsed into silence, contemplating his father's statement. _It can't be a good sign if Lassie's worried about me now. Maybe I really have gone off the deep end. _He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to find a position that didn't exacerbate the misery echoing through every bone and muscle in his entire body. He idly wondered if it was time for a dose of pain meds, then decided he didn't really want to take them even if it was. _Hopefully if I'm not drugged up I can keep from losing my mind again._

Henry turned to put pancakes on the griddle, and glanced out the window just in time to see Buzz McNab stride past. The young officer was taking his turn on patrol, although Henry was beginning to wonder if there was a point to the protection detail. _We can't keep a guard on him indefinitely, but I'll be damned if I let this psycho get to my kid,_ Henry thought for the tenth time in as many hours. He sighed. _ I honestly don't know what to do with you, Shawn. There's something you're not telling me._

As it happened, Shawn was thinking along similar lines. _ I just want my life back. I want them to catch this guy. I have to tell Dad everything. He's going to be upset but I can't do this anymore._ "Ah, Dad?" He shifted again and gasped as he accidentally jostled his broken ribs. "Ow." He cautiously pressed his right hand against the damaged bones, trying to keep them in place since it felt like they were threatening to break through his skin. "Mmmmm," he moaned softly, biting his lip while trying to clamp down on the agony.

Henry looked alarmed and put down his spoon. "You okay?"

"Fine," Shawn muttered through gritted teeth. _I just need to get this over with._ He hissed in a painful breath. "Have to tell you…about the guy that…captured me."

Henry took a finished pancake off the griddle and turned off the burner. He joined his son at the table and sat, patiently awaiting the rest. _Don't push,_ he reminded himself. "Yeah?"

"He…I…" Shawn took a deep breath. "Following me." _There. Almost done._ "He was following me. The day I was kidnapped…I…saw him." Shawn kept pressing on his damaged rib cage and closed his eyes so that he didn't have to see his father's face. So he didn't have to look at the disappointment that he knew had to be written there.

Henry leaned forward and gently touched his son's arm. "Where did you see him, Shawn?"

Shawn pried his eyes open and searched Henry's. To his surprise, he did not see judgment, only concern. He whispered, "The diner. The bank. He was tracking me. I can't believe I didn't notice at the time, Dad. I'm sorry. I could have stopped this." Shawn dropped his face into his hands, ignoring the flare of pain in his side as he did so.

"Shawn." Reprimand was clear in Henry's voice, and Shawn flinched in response. _I knew he would be pissed._

"Shawn, listen to me." With an effort, Henry softened his tone and placed a hand on the back of his son's neck. "This was _not your fault_. Do you hear me? You were kidnapped and assaulted. None of that was your fault." _I just wish you would have said something sooner. There could be security cameras, surveillance tapes. I need to call Karen._

Shawn began to shake his head, though it was still buried in his hands. "No, no." _You don't understand. That isn't all._

Confused, Henry soothingly tightened his grip on Shawn's neck. "What? What is it, kid?"

Shawn stammered, trying to push past the terror. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke. "He said that he did this because I deserve it." For an instant he was back in that horrible dark place, bound and gagged and completely alone. _You're fine,_ he reminded himself. _Dad's here. Keep it together._

Henry froze, but it only took a few seconds for him to regain composure. Gently but firmly he pulled Shawn's fingers away from his face. "Look at me. Shawn, _look at me_." He grabbed his son's chin and forced eye contact.

Shawn had dark circles beneath his hazel eyes. Troubled eyes, pain-filled eyes that glittered with tears as he unwillingly looked at his father. "What?" he asked dully.

Henry kept a tight grip on Shawn's fingers as he stated resolutely, "You are not to blame. And you could not possibly have done anything to deserve what happened to you." At the incredulous look on his child's weary face, Henry insisted. "You _do not deserve_ any of this."

"How do you know?" Shawn whispered miserably. "Maybe I do. I obviously did something to this guy. Maybe I deserve every bit of what's happening to me." Shawn's voice got quieter with each word, and Henry had to strain to listen. "Maybe he plans to kill me, and maybe I'll deserve that too. How do you know that I don't?"

Taken aback by the uncharacteristic note of defeat in Shawn's tone, Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying. "I know because you're my son. And I know that you're a good kid."

A humorless chuckle escaped as Shawn shook his head. "You're the one who's always saying how I need to grow up and get my act together."

Vividly reminded of the argument they'd had the night Shawn disappeared, Henry pressed his fingers to his own aching head. "An occasional lack of maturity doesn't make you deserving of kidnapping and torture, Shawn."

On any other day such a remark would probably have set Shawn off, but he knew that his father wasn't trying to pick a fight. He sighed. "I just want this to be over."

"I know you do, kiddo," Henry said sincerely. He reached for Shawn's hand again and squeezed the thin fingers gently. "So do I."

Shawn found the touch reassuring and let his hand linger in his father's. After a moment Henry grunted and abruptly pulled away. "Those pancakes aren't going to finish themselves," he observed gruffly, standing and making a beeline for the stove.

In spite of the situation Shawn smiled faintly, mildly amused by his dad's obvious discomfort. _ He never has been good with the whole touchy-feely aspect of parenting. _He opened his mouth, ready to change the subject and let Henry off the hook, but was interrupted by a quiet thud from the porch.

Alarmed, Shawn looked at his father. Henry's mouth was pressed into a tight line. "Stay here," he ordered through clenched teeth.

Shawn's eyes grew wide, frantic. _Don't leave me alone in here,_ he thought. _Please. I can't be alone._

Henry could see the desperation on his son's face and was torn. He struggled for a few seconds before coming to a decision. "Come on. I've got you." Carefully and quickly he pulled Shawn to his feet again, and together the two men headed for the door.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: As always, thank you all so much for the thoughtful, lovely reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. Please continue to keep in mind that I am no sort of medical (or law enforcement) expert. Hopefully y'all like Shawn whump as much as I do because the poor guy is having a rough go in this chapter! Also, there is a minor reference to Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark. I hope you enjoy. –abby_

_

* * *

_It was worse than Henry had feared. Buzz McNab lay sprawled across the porch, unconscious and bleeding from a blow to the temple. Henry felt Shawn's breathing accelerate at the sight, and he gently tightened the hold he had around his son's waist. "I've got you, kiddo," he said softly. "Just hang in there."

Shawn nodded. _Poor Buzz,_ he thought miserably as he looked at McNab's still form. _I'm so sorry, dude. This is my fault. _ He could feel his knees shaking, and stayed upright by sheer force of will as his father knelt to check the young cop's pulse. Finding it strong and steady, Henry stood and resumed his position at Shawn's side.

Replacing Shawn's arm around his shoulders, Henry couldn't help but feel that he'd made a horrible mistake. _ I should have left the kid inside. He's not up to this. _But as they traversed the length of the porch Shawn persisted, somehow managing to carry his own weight with only minimal help. _He's got to be hurting like hell. Good job, kiddo._ Henry felt a swell of pride at his son's determination.

The pride was quickly replaced by concern when Henry caught a glimpse of movement from around the side of the house.

Shawn saw it too, and knew that Henry could move faster without an added burden. He pulled away and leaned against the porch railing for balance, gingerly supporting his injured ribs. At the puzzled look on his dad's face he nodded reassuringly. "I'm okay," he mouthed silently. "Go."

With one last worried glance back at his son, Henry crept around the corner cautiously.

Shawn saw what was about to happen but could do little to stop it. "Dad!" he yelled, lurching forward in a desperate attempt to reach his father. "DAD!" He stumbled and fell, helpless to do anything else but watch in horror.

Henry heard his son's warning and turned, but he was too late to dodge the brutal assault. The last thing he saw was the business end of a shovel aimed squarely at his face.

"NO!" Shawn screamed as Henry collapsed. _Oh god. Dad!_ There was only a brief second before Henry's attacker spun and charged toward Shawn, who instantly recognized his stalker. _It's him. That's the guy. He's back. Oh, no. No!_ Shawn tried desperately to get away, weakly struggling to his feet and trying to run. He made it exactly three steps before he was overwhelmed from behind.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Shawn's first thought was that he was really, really sick of waking up to a pounding headache. _Ow. What happened? _But once he opened his eyes, it didn't take long for him to piece everything together.

He was tied to a chair, placed squarely in the middle of his father's living room. Henry and Buzz were lying on the floor in front of him, both unconscious. They were bound and gagged, and in addition to Buzz' head wound, his father obviously had a broken nose. For a brief second, Shawn's feeling of guilt outweighed his terror at being held captive. _This is all my fault. Someone please, help us._

"You're awake," a raspy voice observed from somewhere behind Shawn. _What is he going to do to me?_ He took a deep breath_. Stay calm._ _You can handle this_, Shawn admonished himself. Panic loomed, but Shawn knew that Chief Vick had been calling the house regularly to check in. Gus had too, not to mention that it was almost time for a patrol shift-change. The chances that they would be discovered soon were good. _At least he didn't take us anywhere. You have to stall, buy some time. _

However, as the man moved into view it occurred to Shawn that he was no longer hiding his face. _That's __**not **__a good sign,_ Shawn knew. He tried not to dwell on it. It was taking all of his limited energy to remain calm and he knew that line of thought would not help. "What do you want?" Shawn didn't bother with pleasantries, and there was no trace of his usual easygoing tone. He hardly recognized his own tense voice as he demanded, "Why are you doing this?" He jerked angrily against his restraints, but they didn't budge.

The smile he received in return was feral, evil. Shawn suppressed a shudder as the man moved closer and hissed, "Why do you think?"

"I don't know!" Shawn blurted. He knew he sounded hysterical and with an effort, lowered his volume. "I really don't. I don't even know you! What could I possibly have done to you?"

The words struck a nerve. A fist was mercilessly thrown into Shawn's midsection with the force of a pile driver. He gasped for air, unable to do anything else. His broken ribs screamed, and Shawn couldn't stifle a whimper at the blinding agony. _Oh my god. He's a lot stronger than he looks._

At Shawn's obvious pain, a satisfied smile crossed his captor's face. Shawn tried hard to rein in his misery. _Can't give him the satisfaction,_ he decided, inhaling carefully. He couldn't help but notice that each breath had taken on an odd wheezing quality in addition to hurting like hell. _That can't be good. Gus, come on, buddy. Try to call. Figure it out._

The man studied his prey for a long time, unnerving Shawn with his silence. Finally he spoke. "You ruined my life," was the simple response.

Shawn couldn't help it. Despite the terror, his smart mouth took over and Shawn snorted, "That's really original, dude. Not a cliché at all."

Unsurprisingly, it was the wrong thing to say. The man scowled for an instant, then belted Shawn viciously across the mouth. "Typical. People like you just don't care about anyone but yourselves."

Shawn tasted blood, and winced as his tongue touched his newly split lip. He ignored the sting and fixated on the words instead. _People like me. What is that supposed to mean?_ As he had the last time he was being held captive, Shawn searched his memory in an attempt to place the furious man. _Still nothing._ _Who is this guy? What did I do to him?_

The man's tone was low and predatory as he stated, "It's your fault that Laura is dead."

_Who is Laura?_ The name was familiar, but Shawn didn't have time to try and work out a connection.

The beating was unexpected. It was fast and vicious, and directed entirely at Shawn's ribcage. Hit after hit landed squarely on his broken bones, and with his arms and legs tied, Shawn was totally helpless to defend himself. _I was wrong when I got shot, _he thought hazily._ This. __**This**__ is the most pain I've ever been in in my life. _He managed a weak yell as he felt another rib snap under the forceful blows.

Shawn coughed and gasped, eyes watering. He tried to scream, but simply didn't have enough air. All he could do was grunt as each impact made it harder and harder for him to breathe. _Now would be a good time, Gus. Lassie, Jules, somebody. I'm dying here_.

His vision was beginning to dim, and he could no longer see his attacker coming. Each hit was an excruciating shock, and Shawn was glad when his faint hold on consciousness finally slipped away.

* * *

At first Henry couldn't figure out where he was, but did vaguely recall getting smashed in the face. As if to confirm his memory, Henry's nose throbbed and entire body ached, and he kept his eyes clamped shut to try and control the pain. After a moment Henry opened his eyes cautiously, only to be greeted by his worst nightmare.

Shawn sat in front of him, tightly bound to a chair, head hanging forward. Blood welled slowly out of a split in his lip, but that wasn't what frightened his father. What terrified Henry was how Shawn seemed to be struggling for each shallow breath, his thin chest heaving erratically with the effort.

After swiftly surveying his living room, Henry determined that their captor was nowhere around but knew he couldn't have gone far. _Hang on, Shawn,_ he thought, frustrated by the tape covering his mouth and the ropes trapping his hands behind his back. Henry squirmed into a sitting position and through a series of awkward contortions, managed to retrieve the Swiss army knife from his front pocket. _Thank god he didn't find that, _Henry mused in relief. Working quickly, while keeping an eye out for any indication that the stranger was returning, Henry flicked open the small blade and blindly began working at the stiff ropes. Single-mindedly focused on Shawn, Henry did not even notice when the knife slipped and nicked the soft flesh of his wrist.

Just then the nearby phone began to ring loudly. Henry froze, wondering how their captor would react. He hurriedly closed the knife and hid it in the palm of his hand, scooting back against the couch to hide the evidence. And not a moment too soon, as the man furiously rounded the corner and ripped the land line's cord out of the wall with an angry growl. He glared at Henry, who unwaveringly returned the icy stare.

Seconds later, Shawn's cell phone began to ring from its spot on the kitchen counter. Even from the other room, Henry recognized the ringtone as the one his son had programmed for Gus. _That was probably him trying to call the home number first. He'll start to worry now. _ As Henry watched silently, the look of fury on his assailant's face intensified. Shawn's phone stopped ringing, and Henry's cell immediately began to buzz on the coffee table in front of them. The man began to pace rapidly, muttering to himself. He was clearly becoming agitated.

At the same time, Shawn stirred faintly. Ignoring their captor, Henry instead devoted all of his attention to observing his son. _Come on, kid,_ he urged silently. _Keep breathing. _Henry had heard labored breathing like that only once, years before when he was on the force. His partner had been shot in the chest and suffered a collapsed lung, and each wheezing breath sounded exactly like the ones coming from Shawn. _Come on, kiddo. You can do it. Just hang in there._

Henry knew the phone calls meant that help was coming – there was no way that Gus would just go about his business after three unsuccessful attempts to reach his friend – so the question just became how long. How long until someone arrived? And more importantly, how long could Shawn hang on?

As Henry waited and worried, Shawn found his way back to painful consciousness. He weakly lifted his head and looked around, dazed. Everything appeared much the same as before, except…_Dad?_ He was very thankful to see that his father was awake. Shawn attempted a smile, but couldn't seem to muster up the energy. That was when Shawn noticed the crushing pain in his chest. His ribs had been hurting consistently for days, but this was different. _I can't breathe,_ he realized. He gasped, trying desperately to suck in a decent amount of oxygen.

Henry could see his son starting to panic and while he didn't blame the kid one bit, he knew that Shawn needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the tape covering Henry's mouth made speaking impossible. He cleared his throat loudly to get Shawn's attention. When glassy hazel eyes finally slid in his direction, Henry began breathing very slowly and deliberately, in an attempt to make Shawn understand.

After a minute, Shawn seemed to get it. He slowed his breathing pace, trying to match his father's. It didn't do much to help. Shawn's chest cavity was filling with air and it was compressing his lungs. Henry knew that he needed a hospital sooner rather than later. _Just a little while longer, kid. I promise._

Shawn knew his dad was right – he needed to stay calm. But it wasn't easy when he was slowly suffocating. _So this is what dying feels like,_ he thought miserably. He could feel his father watching as he battled to keep inhaling. He worked for each breath, focusing only on the actions necessary. _In, out. In, out. _It felt like trying to breathe underwater, but Shawn persisted. _Dad's here. I'll be okay. _His head pounded fiercely due to lack of oxygen, and dark spots swam in his vision. _Keep breathing. That's all. Breathe. _Shawn simply couldn't spare the room in his mind for contemplating anything else. He ignored his kidnapper, his bindings, his father, the agony in his ribs, everything. _Just breathe._

Before - when Shawn had disappeared - Henry had thought he felt powerless. But that feeling was nothing compared to what he was currently experiencing. _ He's dying. If I don't do something, my son is going to die right here in front of me. _As difficult as it was to watch Shawn suffer, Henry could hardly bear to pull his eyes away long enough to check on their captor.

The man continued to pace, though his strides had become less purposeful, more frantic. _Bastard doesn't know what to do now,_ Henry realized. He decided it was time for him to act. Another glance at his distressed son confirmed the choice. Moving cautiously, arms still hidden by the couch, Henry eased the blade back out of his knife and resumed working at the ropes. While doing so, he kept a close watch on both Shawn and their assailant.

For his part, Shawn kept fighting as hard as he could. But he was fading. Every breath was torture. He gasped and choked, trying to battle the vise that was squeezing the life from his body. _Gus…Dad…_he could no longer form coherent thoughts. He only knew that he was slipping away, that he was nearing the end. _This is it._

Henry freed himself just as Shawn's chin dropped to his chest. There was no time to waste. In one fluid motion, Henry ripped the duct tape from his mouth and launched his body at their shocked captor. Though the other man had several inches of height on the former cop, Henry easily slammed him into the wall, simultaneously driving his fist into the startled face. Consumed by fury and fear for his son's life, with the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, Henry pulled his clenched hand back, ready for another strike.

But before he could move, his fist was grabbed from behind. Henry spun, ready to flatten whoever had dared to interrupt. He was surprised to find that it was Carlton Lassiter. The detective's lips were moving and Henry strained to listen past the deafening sound of blood rushing through his skull. Finally his ears started working again. "Spencer! Henry! You got him. It's over." Lassiter paused and glanced over his shoulder, concern etched in his severe features. "Leave this scum to me. Your son needs you."

Henry gasped. "Shawn!" Somehow in his blind fury he'd forgotten all about his son's condition. He rushed across the room and knelt beside Juliet, who was untying Shawn from the chair.

The young detective seemed to be blinking back tears as she looked at Henry. "It's bad," Juliet said softly. Henry nodded mutely, and accepted her help in lowering Shawn gently to the floor. His son shuddered and gasped shallowly, and Henry doubted that he was getting much air into his lungs at all. Shawn's lips and fingernails were a terrifying shade of blue, something Henry knew to be caused by a lack of oxygen. He carefully tipped back his son's head in an attempt to open the airway as much as possible, but it didn't make a difference.

"An ambulance is on the way," Juliet assured the older man before moving to check on the still-unconscious McNab.

The kitchen door banged open, and seconds later Gus flew into the room. He took in the scene with a horrified glance before dropping to his knees at his best friend's side. "Shawn!"

At the sound of his buddy's voice, Shawn's eyes fluttered open. They slid back and forth, and a faint smile appeared on blue lips when he recognized the faces staring into his. He choked and sputtered for a moment, obviously trying to speak.

Henry placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't try and talk, kiddo. The paramedics will be here soon. Just keep breathing for me, okay?"

Shawn shook his head, though it looked more like a spasm than a purposeful movement. He gasped in another labored breath. "Dad…Gus…thank you," he whispered.

Gus looked puzzled. "For what, Shawn?"

Shawn coughed, and a spatter of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. Henry's heart skipped a beat at the sight. _Where's that damn ambulance,_ he thought angrily. Juliet was evidently wondering the same thing, because she suddenly stood and pulled out her phone.

Another tremor violently wracked Shawn's battered body but he found his voice again, weak and raspy though it was. "For being here," was all he could manage before his eyelids dropped shut.

"No, Shawn. No!" Henry grabbed his son's lax fingers and squeezed tightly. "Don't you dare die on us, kid." _Oh Jesus. Please don't die._

Mirroring Henry's action with Shawn's other hand, terror was clear in Gus' expression as he raised his shaky voice at his best friend. "Oh hell no, Shawn! Don't you even think about doing this to me!"

Shawn did not seem to hear. He pulled in one more shuddering breath, and let it out slowly.

Gus and Henry watched with helpless dread, waiting for Shawn's chest to rise again.

It didn't.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I'm so sorry to leave y'all hanging like that! But wow. Thank you so, so much for all the awesome reviews. I just can't tell you how excited I am that you like this story! Usual disclaimers apply here – and seriously, I'm just making up medical stuff and claiming poetic license because I don't have a clue. Hope that's okay. Also, beware more references to/possible minor spoilers for Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark. -abby_

_

* * *

_Gus had never been so petrified in his whole entire life. _Not even when Shawn got himself shot and kidnapped. _Somehow that situation hadn't been as terrifying as seeing Shawn stop breathing right in front of him. _Maybe it's because then I could at least believe that we'd find him, safe and sound. Or that I could actually __**do**__ something other than wait. But now…_Gus couldn't even bear to finish the thought. _If Shawn dies...no. He can't die. He just can't._

"Gus." Henry Spencer's quiet voice pulled the younger man from his reverie. At the sound of his name, Gus suddenly noticed that he had been frantically darting from one end of the tiny waiting room to the other.

Henry perched on the edge of a nearby chair, wearily watching his son's best friend. The ex-cop had a bandage covering the bridge of his swollen nose, and spectacular bruises were starting to appear under both eyes. He patted the seat next to him, hoping he could get Gus to settle down. The frenetic pacing was making Henry nervous. _But I know how he feels. I wish the damn doctors would get out here and tell me something. Anything. I need to know what's going on with my son._

Grudgingly Gus sat and dropped his face into his hands. After a moment he looked up and met Henry's bloodshot eyes. "What if he…dies?" The young man's voice was an unsteady whisper.

Henry looked at Gus fiercely. "He won't. This is Shawn. You know how damn stubborn he is." But for once Henry wasn't sure he believed his own words. _It looked like he gave up. He just…quit fighting._ Henry knew that no matter how long he lived, he would never, ever forget that chilling instant. How he and Gus both were frozen in absolute terror when Shawn's chest sank and did not rise again.

Gus nodded, but obviously was not convinced. Before he had the chance to respond, the door opened. Karen Vick slipped inside, followed closely by Lassiter and O'Hara.

"Any news?" Concern laced the chief's words, and hope was clear in her face as she spoke.

Henry stood and greeted his old friend. He shook his head. "Nothing. The doctor's still in with him."

Vick sighed; Juliet looked positively crestfallen and even Lassiter seemed upset. Chief Vick squeezed Henry's arm and tried to sound confident when she said, "He'll pull through, Henry. I'm sure of it."

Henry nodded silently. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, "What about that bastard?"

Karen seemed to understand that Henry needed the distraction, and was more than willing to discuss the case if that's what it took to help her friend cope. She glanced at Lassiter.

The tall detective took a step forward. "His name is George McCall. We arrested his brother-in-law, Sam Carson, six months ago. Carson was the firebug who burned down the Santa Barbara Children's Home. Remember that whole thing?"

Gus stood and said thoughtfully, "Yeah, I think so. Thank god it was empty that night and he didn't hurt anyone. Carson's wife, Laura, totally flipped out in the courtroom during sentencing, didn't she?"

O'Hara nodded. "She was so distraught that she had to be tranquilized and taken to the hospital. She spent three weeks in the psychiatric ward at Santa Barbara General before she committed suicide."

"She had practically raised her brother - McCall - from the time he was six years old. Their parents were killed in a car accident," Lassiter finished.

Henry frowned. He didn't see the connection. "That's all very unfortunate, but what does it have to do with my son?"

Gus turned to the older man and explained, "Shawn was the one who cracked the case. I remember now. Carson owned that bakery downtown with his wife. Shawn made an association between the dough used for their secret cake recipe and a strange residue found outside the arson site." He frowned, confused. "But we never met McCall…he's military, right?"

"Yes. Navy," Lassiter confirmed. "He was at sea when everything went down – didn't even make it back in time for his sister's funeral. Evidently he's been harboring a grudge against Shawn ever since. And like Laura Carson, he doesn't seem entirely stable. The department psychiatrist thinks that he may have had some sort of psychotic break."

Henry started to run his hands down his face, but stopped with a wince when he was painfully reminded of his broken nose. "God." He was well aware of Shawn's propensity for being an irritant and had expected that his son's behavior was likely to get him into serious trouble one day, but had never imagined anything like this.

"We've got him, Henry," Karen said reassuringly. "With your statement – and McNab's – to corroborate, McCall will be going away for a long time. Especially if-" The chief cut herself off before finishing the sentence, but they all heard what she didn't say – _If Shawn doesn't make it._

In the resulting awkward pause, Gus changed the subject. "How is Buzz?"

"He'll be fine," Juliet replied. "They're keeping him overnight for observation but it was just a moderate concussion."

"Good," Henry said with a sharp nod.

Five people lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. Anxiety filled the air as they all worried about Shawn.

_That's it. I've been patient long enough,_ Henry decided. He was about to head for the nurses' station and demand an update when the waiting room door opened.

Henry immediately recognized Dr. Ashcroft, Shawn's attending physician from his last stay in the hospital. He approached the doctor purposefully, but before Henry had the chance to speak the doctor cut to the chase. "Shawn is alive." At the murmurs of relief, he held up his hand and continued, "But as you know, he was not breathing on his own when he was brought in. One lung had collapsed and the other was perilously close."

Ashcroft paused, and evaluated the concern that radiated from every person in the room. "Shawn endured quite a brutal beating, but by some miracle managed to escape massive internal bleeding." The doctor continued carefully, "He has a long road ahead, but I am cautiously optimistic that he'll make a full physical recovery." He turned to Henry. "Your son is quite a fighter, Mr. Spencer." He smiled sincerely on his way out the door. "I'll have a nurse take you to him."

Once the doctor was gone, Gus whooped loudly. Juliet and Karen both grinned broadly, and Lassiter shook his head bemusedly while failing to hide a relieved smile.

But Henry stood speechless. _He's going to be fine. Shawn is alive. He's going to be okay._ He was so overwhelmed, so very relieved and thankful, that he couldn't even wrap his mind around what he'd just heard. Suddenly the stress and exhaustion from the last several days slammed into him full-force and his knees began to buckle. Fortunately, Lassiter grabbed the older man's elbow and steadied him just in time.

"Easy." The tall detective didn't bother to hide his concern. He guided Henry to a nearby chair while the others looked on worriedly. "Sit."

"I'm fine," Henry protested crossly, though he did allow Lassiter to lower him into the seat. At the doubtful faces surrounding him, he insisted, "Really. I just need to see my son."

"I can help with that," said an unfamiliar voice. A middle-aged nurse stood in the doorway, smiling warmly at Henry. "This way, sir." Without further ado, she steered the exhausted man toward the hall.

Henry looked back at Gus. "Come on," he said with a weary half-smile. "You know Shawn will want to see you more than he'll want to see me."

Although he desperately wanted to check on his friend, Gus shook his head. He understood that Henry needed some time alone with his son. "You go ahead. I'll catch up."

Another faint smile, and a nod. "Thanks," Henry said softly, as he turned and followed the nurse.

* * *

Outside Shawn's room, Henry paused. He wanted so badly to see his son, but was honestly petrified as to what was on the other side of the wall.

The kindly nurse seemed to sense his hesitation and put a comforting hand on his arm. "He's on a pretty high dose of morphine, so he's fading in and out. He has been fairly lucid, all things considered," she said quietly. "But due to the nature of his injuries, we have him on a feeding tube and a ventilator. He can't speak, but he'll know you're here."

Henry nodded mutely, not trusting his own voice. The nurse smiled gently and gestured at the door. Bolstered by her reassurance, Henry pushed it open and approached his son.

Shawn lay still and silent, a state very unnatural for someone so normally exuberant. The young man was paler than seemed possible, and as the nurse had warned, in addition to the various lines and monitors connected to his body there was an endotrachial tube running down his throat. Henry felt his chest tighten in sympathy, but it was the feeding tube snaking into Shawn's nose that took Henry's breath away. _Oh, Shawn. You poor kid._

Henry continued studying his son's thin frame. Shawn's torso was swathed only in bandages, and Henry could clearly see the fading gunshot scar on his left shoulder. It stood in livid contrast to Shawn's deathly white skin. Henry closed his eyes momentarily, once again remembering that awful night and the frantic phone call from Gus. _I really thought I'd lost him then, too. You're killing me, kid. One disaster at a time. Motorcycle accident, then you get yourself shot and locked in a trunk, and now some psycho with a grudge comes looking for you. Jesus, son. It was too close this time. If I ever do actually lose you…_Henry abruptly halted the train of thought and sat down at the bedside. He hesitated for another moment before placing a hand on top of Shawn's.

The response was almost instantaneous as his son's eyelids began to flutter and then open. Given the usual effects of morphine, Henry was surprised at how quickly Shawn awakened. _Dad,_ he tried to whisper, though it was unintelligible around the ventilator.

"Yeah, kiddo." Henry patted Shawn's cold fingers reassuringly. "I'm here. They've got you on a ventilator. Don't try and talk."

Shawn ignored his own condition and studied his father's facial bruises guiltily. _That looks like it hurts,_ he thought tiredly. _At least they're giving me the good drugs. Knowing Dad, he hasn't taken anything._

After years of practice Henry was easily able to interpret the look on his son's face, though this particular expression wasn't something he saw with great regularity. _ The kid feels guilty that I got hurt. _He sighed heavily. "Shawn. Look at me." He waited until the bloodshot hazel eyes focused on his own. "I'm fine. McNab is fine. You're all I'm worried about, okay?"

A tiny nod was the only response. Shawn was happy for the IV dripping morphine into his body, since he wasn't feeling any pain at all. _Or much of anything, really. Which is nice._ He was aware of both the ventilator and the feeding tube, but thankfully they weren't causing any discomfort. However, the memory of his agonizing experience was still all too fresh on his mind. He again managed to soundlessly move his lips around the tube. _Hurt, _he mouthed.

Somehow Henry seemed to understand what Shawn meant and he nodded sympathetically. "I know it did, kiddo. That bastard" - Henry doubted if he'd ever be able to refer to such a monster by his real name - "beat the hell out of you. But we got him. He can never hurt you again." He paused, wondering if Shawn knew the worst of it. "You almost died," he finished quietly.

Shawn didn't seem surprised. He closed his eyes briefly as he recalled the moment in which he had realized that he was suffocating. He looked back up at Henry, a fading echo of the paralyzing fear mixing with relief in his eyes. _It's really over._

His father didn't seem to notice. Henry's face had taken on a distracted look, as though he were someplace far away. "Christ. You really scared the hell out of me." The former cop's voice was hardly audible as he continued, "I thought you were gone. If the paramedics hadn't gotten there when they did…" Henry trailed off and looked away, unwilling to let his son see the tears that pricked hotly at his eyes. He blinked them back angrily, frustrated by the uncharacteristic breakdown.

Shawn was growing frustrated too, but his irritation stemmed entirely from his inability to speak. _Dammit._ He hated that vulnerability on his father's face, and was definitely not used to seeing the old man lose control of his emotions. _At least not in relation to me. Dad's not supposed to look like that. He really must have thought I was dead. _The realization was startling, and Shawn's hand clenched weakly around Henry's. _It's okay, Dad. I'm going to be fine._

After a few seconds, Henry finally registered the faint pressure of Shawn's hand in his. He pulled himself together and stared down at his only child, cringing again at the painful-looking medical equipment. But beyond the discomfort, beyond the fatigue, Henry could see stubborn resolve on his son's face. And as he had on the porch at his house - _seems like that was ages ago _- he felt another surge of pride.

Suddenly Henry remembered his regret from a few days before, from what turned out to be mere seconds before he'd found Shawn half-dead on the driveway. _I thought he was gone, and wished I had told him how much I love him. _"Kid, listen to me for a minute." _No time like the present._

Shawn was starting to feel fuzzy and was in danger of dozing off, but the look on his father's face was worrisome and so he fought to stay alert. _He's freaking me out. Why is he looking at me like that?_

Henry paused. "I never have been very good at…" He stopped again. _Just do it. For once in his life the kid won't be able to smart off in response, _Henry thought. _Now's your chance._ He took a deep breath. "I know I've always been hard on you, but I want you to know that's only because I know what you're capable of. You make me proud, and I love you very much." _There._ At the look of pleased surprise in Shawn's eyes, Henry knew that he had done the right thing. That his son had needed to hear the words as much as Henry had needed to say them.

_I love you too, Dad, _Shawn thought, annoyed once more by the vent tube down his throat. Options severely limited, he settled for squeezing the older man's hand as tightly as he could.

With a smile, Henry brushed his fingers affectionately through Shawn's hair and noted how heavy his son's eyelids had become. "Get some rest, kiddo. I'll be here when you wake up."

Shawn nodded and for the first time since his whole nightmare began, voluntarily relaxed into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Sorry, y'all. A much, much longer delay than I had intended – the whole job/family/grad school combo is kicking my ass just a bit. Also, this chapter was extremely hard to write – definitely the hardest one by far…and possibly the last. I feel like I could end the story here but haven't decided yet. (Feedback will be much appreciated in that regard.) Anyway, Shawn and Gus have such an awesome friendship and I wanted to get them right. Hopefully I did. Standard disclaimers apply, etc. Thanks for your patience! -abby_

_

* * *

_Gus was not sure what to expect as he pushed open the door to Shawn's room, and hoped that he'd given Henry enough time to talk to his son alone. He couldn't wait any longer.

"Oh, god. Shawn," Gus murmured as he got his first glimpse of his lifelong best friend. _He looks terrible. _Gus felt his notoriously weak stomach roll at the sight of the various lines and tubes running into Shawn's frail body. He swallowed hard and turned away.

Henry had been lightly dozing at the bedside, but awakened when he heard Gus enter. He stood and put a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Don't worry. He's going to be fine," Henry said softly, careful not to disturb his sleeping son. Gus looked doubtful, and Henry insisted. "He is."

Still unconvinced, Gus nodded slowly as Henry continued, "I hate to do this, because I told Shawn I'd be here when he woke up." He rubbed his aching forehead, pain and exhaustion evident. "But I could really use a decent cup of coffee. He'll be okay as long as you're in here," he told Gus with a sigh. "Can you stay for a little while?"

"Absolutely," Gus agreed emphatically. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured the older man. "Take as much time as you need."

Henry nodded his thanks, and glanced at his son again before quietly slipping out of the room.

Gus sat down in the uncomfortable bedside chair and settled in to wait. He had no intention of leaving until he talked to his friend. _Even though he won't be able to say anything, _Gus thought sadly. The very idea of his gregarious pal being totally mute - even temporarily - was disturbing. _It's so wrong to see him like this._

It was getting late, and it wasn't long before Gus succumbed to the fading light and dozed. Unfortunately he was awakened almost immediately.

Though apparently still asleep, Shawn thrashed wildly in the bed. His head flopped from side to side, arms shaking, fists clenching and opening rapidly. The heart monitor was going haywire, and Gus knew it was only a matter of seconds before the nurses arrived. _He's going to hurt himself before they get here,_ Gus thought frantically, and put a hand on either side of his friend's head to try and keep him from ripping out the ventilator. "Shawn! Shawn, calm down!"

Two nurses burst through the door just as their patient suddenly stilled. Shawn's heart rate began to stabilize, and his tense body relaxed. Gus hovered worriedly as the nurses quickly checked the injured man's vitals. "I think he just had a nightmare," one of them assured Gus with a comforting smile. "Pretty understandable after everything he's been through." She made a few notes on Shawn's chart. "Let us know if you need anything," she said to Gus as they made their way to the door.

Gus plopped back into one of the bedside chairs and sighed heavily. _God, Shawn. You've got to stop scaring the hell out of me. I can't take it. _His own heart slowed and eventually ceased hammering its terrified rhythm inside his chest. He was in the middle of attempting to find a comfortable position when he noticed that Shawn was stirring, but gently this time. Slowly the hazel eyes opened and as Gus watched hopefully, they groggily focused on him.

Gus knew his friend so well that he read Shawn's face as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud. _Buddy!_ Shawn's exhausted, pain-filled eyes lit up. _I wondered where you were._

Gus smiled easily in return, pleased that his friend didn't seem to remember the nightmare. "Hey. I've been here all along, but wanted to give your dad a chance to see you first. He'll be back in a little while." He paused. "You scared me, Shawn. You scared us both," he said softly, referring to Henry. "Don't you ever do that again."

_Believe me,_ Shawn thought, _I don't plan to._ He wondered, frustrated, how long he would be voiceless. _This sucks._

Gus could see the annoyance in Shawn's expression and didn't need to wonder what was causing it. Suddenly he had an idea and stood. "Hang on, Shawn," he said, heading for the door. "I'll be right back."

Shawn busied himself with groping for the bed control and raising it to a more upright position as he waited on his friend to return. Less than two minutes later, Gus was back at Shawn's side.

"Here you go, buddy," Gus said triumphantly. He placed a tiny dry-erase board by Shawn's right hand, and gently placed the marker in his weak friend's thin fingers.

A faint smile drifted across Shawn's pale face, partially obscured by the ventilator. He fumbled with the marker for a minute, then managed to scribble a single word across the small white board.

Gus tilted his head and read aloud. "_Thanks_. Shawn, what are you talking about?"

Shawn quirked an eyebrow at his buddy's choice of words.

Gus rolled his eyes, an often automatic gesture when it came to Shawn. He was glad to have the opportunity to perform it again. "You know what I mean. Why are you thanking me?" For a brief instant Gus was back in Henry Spencer's den, holding on to his dying friend's hand and willing him to live. _ He was thanking us then too. God, Shawn. Don't do this. _Gus took a deep breath and refocused on the present. _Stop it. He didn't die. He's here, now, and he's going to be okay_.

Shawn concentrated on writing another word below the first. "_Phone_," Gus read, then finally realized what Shawn meant. "You know it was me that called the house looking for you, then sent Lassiter and Juliet when no one picked up."

_Yes! You saved our lives. You saved __**me.**_ Shawn carefully nodded in confirmation. _Thank you._

Gus smiled. "Anytime." He quickly frowned then clarified, "but not anytime soon. Because like I said, you scared the living hell out of me, Shawn. God. I thought you were dead, right there on your father's floor. I have never been so terrified in my entire life."

_I know. I'm sorry,_ Shawn thought. And he was. _I'm sorry for this whole nightmare._ Suddenly he remembered something important and scribbled another word on his board.

"_Laura_?" Gus sighed. He had hoped to avoid that particular conversation until Henry returned. _Or maybe forever. _When he didn't answer right away, he could feel Shawn's keen eyes tracking his every movement.

_Come on, buddy. Don't hold out on me. _Shawn was ready to hear the truth. _I hope._

"All right, all right," Gus put up his hands in surrender. He judiciously recapped the situation, taking care to gauge Shawn's reactions. When Shawn's heart rate quickened at the mention of his captor, Gus halted the explanation and put a gentle hand on his friend's arm. "They got him," Gus said reassuringly. "You're safe, Shawn. McCall's not going to be able to hurt you anymore."

_I know._ Shawn tried to calm down. He could feel Gus watching with concern as his heart rate continued to spike. _The nurses will come if you can't settle down. You're okay,_ Shawn reminded himself. _ Don't freak out. Don't do that again._ He'd had quite enough of losing control. _Gus is here. I'm safe. It's over. God, it's all over. _ Shawn closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, fighting against the ventilator. Vaguely he felt a warm hand grab his and he clung to it gratefully.

Gus squeezed Shawn's trembling fingers as firmly as he dared. "Hey, take it easy," he soothed. Gus could identify the beginnings of another panic attack. He wanted to fix it, to do whatever he could to make Shawn feel safe. _Change the subject_. Suddenly he remembered something and forced a note of cheerfulness into his voice as he exclaimed, "Guess what I saw downtown yesterday?"

Shawn instantly knew what Gus was doing and was glad for the distraction. He fixated on his friend's words, concentrating on the familiar voice in an effort to control the terror. _Gus is here. I'm okay, it's all okay._ He opened his eyes and looked up questioningly.

"Over on Main there's a brand new smoothie shop. I stuck my head in and they have a specialty pineapple-flavored one, man. It looks really good."

Gus could see that Shawn was listening and felt his friend's fingers tighten around his own. Encouraged, he kept talking. "I'll get you one, buddy. Okay? As soon as they get you off these machines I'll bring you the biggest pineapple smoothie that place has. But you have to promise me something first, okay? Promise me." He looked down, meeting Shawn's bloodshot hazel eyes.

Shawn nodded resolutely, determined to do whatever it was that Gus wanted. _He's my best friend. And he saved my life, it's the least I can do._

"Promise me that when I bring you that smoothie, that you'll drink every bit of it. That's all I want." And it was. Because in Gus' mind, if Shawn was drinking huge pineapple smoothies then everything was the way it should be. Everything was normal, and he had his best friend back. "Can you do that for me, Shawn?"

Gus fell silent and let Shawn think it over. After a moment, the injured man came to a conclusion._ Yeah, buddy_, Shawn decided. _I can do that. For you._ As he lay there, weak and tired and utterly helpless, Shawn slowly began to understand why such a simple thing was so important to Gus. As realization dawned, he looked at his friend and saw the tension and worry in his face. Shawn knew that he was the reason. It was the same look that had been etched on Henry's face for days - ever since Shawn woke up on the driveway, terrified and trembling in his father's arms.

Shawn hated that look. Even more, he hated being the cause.

He rolled his eyes up to Gus, who met his gaze unwaveringly. Shawn let go of his friend's hand and again fumbled awkwardly with the dry-erase marker before scrawling out three letters.

_Yes._

Gus beamed. At the look of pure, unashamed joy on his buddy's face, Shawn allowed his eyes to close. But this time it was overwhelming relief that washed over him, not fear. He could feel his heart rate returning to normal as he opened them again. With an effort, he clenched his hand weakly into a fist and lifted it slightly off the bed.

And Gus grinned - a wide, genuine, happy grin - as he gently bumped Shawn's fist with his own. Shawn found himself smiling too, as broadly as the ventilator would allow.

It was in that moment they both knew. Shawn was going to be just fine.


End file.
